Leftover Love
by E Salvatore
Summary: Kensi and Callen got together, got married & got separated. A year later, a case involving their wedding reception is brought to their attention. In the midst of all this, will Callen and Kensi stay apart or will they find the leftover love between them?
1. Prologue

**LEFTOVER LOVE**

**Summary : Kensi and Callen got together, got married and got separated. A year later, a case involving their wedding reception is brought to their attention. In the midst of all this, will Callen and Kensi stay apart or will they find the leftover love between them?**

**Disclaimer : If you guys think I own NCIS : LA, think of all those Kensi/Deeks moments and think again.**

* * *

><p><strong>Leftover Love<strong>

**Prologue : The Big White Shindig We Call A Wedding**

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey Kensi, d'ya think Hetty will call you Agent Callen now?"<em>

"_I don't know, Eric," The young agent says casually, whirling around to come face to face with a video camera. "But if I hear you suggesting it to her, I will cheerfully beat you to death." She smiles brightly. Behind the lens, Eric groans and heads off to annoy her guests, muttering something about how no bride should make death threats on her wedding day._

_Still smiling, Kensi straightens out her white summer dress and walks up to her co-host. "So, you plan on telling the others why they're here? Because I'm pretty sure Eric's told half of them the wrong version." She complains good-naturedly._

_His blue eyes narrow as the corner of his lips curl up in a smile. "Might as well," He shrugs nonchalantly. "Could get a few laughs out of people calling you 'Mrs. Callen'." This earns him a half-hearted slap to his shoulder, followed by a quick kiss. _

"_Say that again, I'd really like it." Sarcasm drips from her voice, something that has proven just as deadly as venom in the past. He laughs shortly before placing a hand on the small of her back, leading her to the main table, next to the relatively small cake and glasses of various drinks._

_He's figuring out a way to get everyone's attention when his partner quickly and efficiently solves his predicament._

"_Hey guys!" Sam Hanna calls out, his booming voice quickly turning approximately thirty pairs of eyes towards him. "I think our host here has something to say." At this, the aforementioned thirty pairs of eyes, now each holding a glint of curiosity, quickly turn towards Callen and Kensi, both of whom are standing closely, Callen's arm protectively wrapped around Kensi's waist._

"_Thanks, Sam." Callen nods before addressing various members of their lives: distant family members of Kensi's, old but close acquaintances of both parties, the DC team, and of course, their relatively small team. "So," He starts. "Thanks for coming today, guys. Kenz and I really appreciate all of you flying to L.A for the day."_

"_Hey, it's free booze. Couldn't turn that down!" Tony DiNozzo's comment quickly causes a round of good-natured, light-hearted laughter from their easy-going friends, one that only increases in volume when Tony receives the all-too-expected slap to the head, courtesy of his boss and Callen's longtime friend, Gibbs._

"_Yeah, you heard Tony." Kensi says dryly, rolling her eyes while smiling. "Alright, so just to clarify, because I'm sure Eric's been telling you guys all the wrong things," She shots the sheepish tech a look. "We're not getting married today."_

_A playful round of "Aww"s and Abby's wail of "Why not?" express the group's disdain. When they quiet down, Callen speaks up and addresses Abby._

"_Because Abs," He grins. "We got married yesterday."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kensi's P.O.V – Present Day<strong>_

It's August the 7th.

I shut the door behind me, heading for the kitchen. My bag is tossed carelessly in the general vicinity of the couch; my jacket soon follows.

Clutching my sole bag of groceries, I slowly and meticulously sort out everything that I'd carelessly picked out, having been miles away during the actual trip to the store. My thoughts are taking over me; this is something I absent-mindedly note as a bad thing. After all, in our line of work, you either focus or you die. It's as simple as that.

But it's only Saturday, which means that I've got all day today and tomorrow to clear my mind before going back to work on Monday. And trust me, I _will _clear my mind. I've had plenty of practice.

Sighing, I tear open some fresh produce and place it in an air-tight container; it'll most likely be weeks before I think of this again, and by then it would've gone bad if not for this preventive measure. I've learned the hard way that it's not cheap to buy groceries and then let them rot away in your fridge. And it sure as hell isn't convenient when you're putting together a sandwich or salad after a long day only to find that all your tomatoes are spoilt.

But then again, single me before this never did care about all this. People say getting married makes you mature; I think it just gives you a better head on your shoulders. One that considers fresh produce infinitely fascinating, now that I'm alone again.

Catching my line of thought, I groan and pull away from everything, closing the refrigerator door behind me.

Oh heck, I've become _that _lady.

Before you know it, I'll have cats. Lots and lots of cats.

* * *

><p>"<em>That was nice of you to invite all of us here," Ziva David comments, half an hour after their impromptu announcement. <em>

"_Couldn't get married and not throw a party." Kensi grins. "Abby would _kill _me."_

_The Israeli smiles understandingly. "That she would."_

_A fair distance away, Eric is filming a seemingly oblivious Nate who is obviously trying to psycho-analyze a young lady, probably a cousin of Kensi's. "Operative word: _trying_."_

"_And failing miserably at that." Hetty interrupts Eric's gleeful narration. "Mr. Beale." She says pleasantly._

"_Uhh…erm…ahh…Hi, Hetty!" Eric stutters, hurriedly turning off his camera. "I was just…you know, recording the party and stuff. Figured it'd be fun to watch…and I could give Kensi and Callen a copy."_

"_That is quite thoughtful of you, Mr. Beale." Hetty muses. "Have you taken to filming well-wishes for the couple?"_

"_Erm…actually, no." Eric admits sheepishly. "I'll go do that now. Thanks, Hetty!"_

_Hetty considers calling out to the young tech to record her wishes, but decides against it. After all, she'll have plenty of chances to do that later. For now, it was time to go talk to Abby and keep her from spreading her excitement to everyone else. _

_For all she knows, young Abigail might've spiked the drinks with her own beverage of choice._

_And you'd better trust Hetty when she tells you that this is not good._

_Not good at all._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Callen's P.O.V – Present Day<strong>_

It's August the 7th.

Banging around the kitchen trying to make something for lunch makes me feel a little more normal; at least the place isn't eerily quiet as it has been these past few months.

The banging goes on for a few more minutes until I lose my appetite, having stumbled upon some leftover stuff of hers. Picking up my phone, it takes all of my willpower to dial Sam's number, and not hers.

I expect him to pick up immediately, because that's just Sam.

But he doesn't.

Frowning, I hang up and dial again…until I remember Sam's words from yesterday. _G, I'm gonna turn off my phone and crash the whole weekend. Really._

It _had _been a long week, and I'm sure the coming week won't be any easier, so I hang up again and let Sam have his rest. Big guy's been undercover four of out five days, trying to break in some drug ring run by a few Marines who just so happened to have killed another few Marines.

Wandering around the empty house, I find myself missing her, missing all the _noise _in the place. And most of all, I find myself hating the fact that we'd left this so…_unfinished_. Neither of us can move on from this; not that we would, anyway. But still. At the time we'd thought that keeping it simple, keeping it _clean _would have helped with the pain, not add to it. We'd told ourselves, we'll talk about this some other time.

And now it's too painful to even bring up.

Guess some other time isn't coming soon.

* * *

><p><em>It's days before Eric Beale stumbles upon the footage from that day.<em>

_With Callen and Kensi gone for a two-week long honeymoon, – Hetty's wedding gift to them – the office is quiet, eerily so. Nate is off doing…well, whatever it is that Nate does. Sam is doing paperwork, though not without a fair amount of displeasure which he feels the need to express every few minutes._

_To which Hetty replies, "Why Mr. Hanna, I do believe it is a good thing to be so…in touch with your inner feelings." Which just sets Sam off again. And then Hetty wanders off, as she's known to do, leaving a grumbling Sam alone._

_Which leaves Eric. He's running a few searches from their recent cases, keeping tabs on Kaleidoscope… and going through his video camera. Which leads to the wedding footage. Or reception. Or whatever it is they're calling it. _

_Reviewing the footage, he finds that Callen and Kensi really did keep it simple. It was by the beach, of course, with everyone in casual wear, something for which he had felt immense relief; his khakis were _safe_! _

_The small crowd mainly just lingered, talking and catching up, everyone playing along for Abby's benefit. Tony DiNozzo quickly established his reputation as the funny flirt, something which found him to be on the receiving end of quite a few Gibbs-slaps. Along with the formidable glare of Ziva David, who actually kinda intimidated Eric, truth be told._

_But somehow, the newlyweds had kept it simple and _them_, despite Abby's best efforts to persuade them into throwing a huge affair, Abby-style. Smiling to himself, amused at the enthusiastic Goth's rapid talking on the screen, Eric burns the footage to a disc. Pulling it out when it's done, he pulls out a marker and neatly labels it._

_**Callen & Kensi, August the 7**__**th**__**.**_

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><p><strong>And that's it, guys! The long-awaited prologue to my second…wait, I think the one-shots count…okay, my <strong>_**fifth **_**CaKe fic. I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations, but let me know what you guys think!**

**If you're wondering how **_**Uncharted Waters **_**fits into this, well, it's their backstory. I considered fitting the whole thing into this fic, but eventually decided it was better off as a one-shot. Do you think I made the right call?**

**As for P., the first few will most likely alternate between Callen and Kensi, though not evenly, but I'm sorta getting a third person vibe for a few scenes I have planned…so...what do you think?**

**Alright, so let me know what you think of the prologue and everything in my note by…you guessed it!...leaving me a review or a PM, as usual. Or you can e-mail me, tweet me or hit up my homepage. Go to my profile for all the deets!**

**Hope to have the first chapter up soon. If you guys are **_**really **_**lucky, it might be up tomorrow, but I promise the latest will be by Wednesday. And if you read **_**THTOYL**_**, no, I will most probably not be updating this every day as I did with that. I'll try my best though!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**May 2011.**_


	2. Chapter 1

**Leftover Love**

**Chapter One : A Case…And So Much More**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Callen's P.O.V<strong>_

The next morning, I pull up along with Kensi's car, both of us having arrived at the same time. It's a habit thing, after living together and leaving for work together for so long. I carefully study her as she gets out of the car. I'm pretty sure her weekend wasn't all that great, either.

"Hey," She smiles slightly, walking up to me. I smile and we both lean against my car, risking the wrath of Hetty by wasting precious time outside the building. After a while, she rests her head against my shoulder, sighing quietly.

"Rough weekend, huh?" I observe. She nods.

"You too?" After a while, she starts smiling. "People would probably be frustrated with us." She notes, referring to our current situation. We're married, and yet not. We're probably estranged, whatever _that _means. But that doesn't mean that we hate each other, that we make our lives a living hell. No, it definitely doesn't.

A few minutes later, I grip her hand in mine and lead her into the building, getting to work before anyone starts to suspect anything. Hetty's probably the only one who understands our situation; Sam just thinks we're weird, and has declared that he's not even gonna try to understand us. Nate thinks we'll work this out on our own; Eric remains, as ever, blissfully ignorant.

We settle into our desks and pull out paperwork, files and everything else. Sam just greets us with a simple word of 'Morning', still not quite awake. We mutter our greetings and get to work, hoping to get some work done before we're inevitably called in on a case. I keep an eye on Kensi for the first few minutes, making sure that she's alright. She works on her paperwork, blocking out everything else, and so I start doing my work while playing around with my thoughts.

Kensi and I were never good at breaking up. Or staying separated, for that matter. There would be fights, she's storm out and go back to her old place, leaving me alone. She'd ignore me for days, and I wouldn't make any effort to change her mind; she'd come around eventually. Days would pass and somehow, we'd end up together again. Kensi and I are like magnets, I guess. Sometimes we repel each other, but at the end of the day, we come together again.

Eric's sharp whistle breaks me out of my musings as we rush up the stairs. Walking in, I see Hetty and Nate discussing something discreetly, though they stop talking as soon as Sam speaks up. "What do we have, Eric?"

"Staff Sergeant Richard Daniels, honorably discharged. Found dead this morning in the back alley of Kate's, an old bar."

"Who found him?" Kensi asks, leaning against the table.

"A group of drunks coming out from Kate's. They called it in at 3.06 a.m., M.E declared time of death just an hour before that, at 2.13. LAPD identified him, got his rank and passed over the case."

"What's he been doing since he got back?" I try to gather more information before assigning tasks to my team.

"Running a sports shop along with a few other Marines, all honorably discharged. Clean records, no past offences…these people are all exemplary guys." Eric comments, pulling up a few pictures. One of them catches my eye and I'm about to speak up before Sam says something. I look at Kensi and silently communicate with her. She nods slightly, letting me know that she finds the man familiar too.

"And their commanding officer, James Francis." I catch the last part of Eric's sentence as he pulls up the picture next to the familiar man.

"Eric, go back." Kensi instructs, pointing out the picture.

"The redhead," I pitch in. Eric dutifully displays the picture of a brown-eyed redhead. I catch Kensi's eye. She knows him, and so do I. We just can't place him.

"And who's he?" Kensi speaks up, turning to face Eric. Eric shrugs.

"No idea. I'm still running a search, but so far all I know is that his picture was in their business files, no name or anything, and the people who found our guy, along with the staff at Kate's, saw _this _guy with Daniels last night."

A plan forms in my mind. "Okay, Eric, work on identifying that guy. Also, check on Daniels and all the others, see if you can find anything. Sam, go check out the first three guys, including their commanding officer; Kensi and I'll get through the other four. Eric, call us when you know who the guy is."

Eric gets to work immediately, tapping at his keyboard while Nate pulls up a seat next to him. Hetty wanders off silently, apparently having nothing better to add in. Sam nods and walks off, presumably to get his keys and sort out a few things before getting a list of names and addresses from Eric. Kensi and I walk out unnoticed in the midst of all this activity.

"We know him." I state and she nods. Looking around cautiously, she pulls me into one of the empty offices and shuts the door behind us.

"I think I know from where."

* * *

><p><em>Their two weeks are almost up, and they've quietly come home to spend their last three days in peace before going back to work.<em>

_Coming home to her place, now _their _place, is good. They're not really travelling people; after all, they've seen most of the world through their work. It's far easier to just stay home and appreciate their time off, rather than travel somewhere foreign and feel obligated to do all sorts of touristy things even though they'd rather stay in bed all day._

"_God, I'm exhausted." She moans, shutting the door behind her. He dumps their bags on the couch, sitting down and patting the empty space next to him, inviting her to sit down. She walks over and collapses on the couch, exhaustion taking over her. Leaning against him, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath._

"_No place like home, huh?" He comments, playing with a lock of her hair. She nods._

"_It was fun, though." She tells him, getting up to stretch her limbs. "But next time I suggest we just stay in bed all day and pass on the travelling part."_

"_Good idea. We've still got three days off; should be enough to get over the jet lag and go in on Monday to survive all of Sam's jokes." He groans._

"_We got through that time he found out about us; we should be okay this time." Kensi states unconvincingly. "Or maybe we should just wear ear plugs." She suggests as an afterthought._

"_Ear plugs it is." Callen grins._

* * *

><p><em>It's been two weeks now, Callen realizes as he makes his way back to the hotel room he calls home these days. Two weeks since he'd undertaken another identity, another life. Two weeks since he'd seen his team, his family. Two weeks since he'd last spoken to Kensi.<em>

_And that's exactly what's bothering him, what's causing him to _almost _slip up and blow his cover a dozen times per day. Sure, they've fought before, but never for more than a week, and never while they were both away from each other, where the argument would stay in their minds and replay itself over and over again._

_Kensi's probably at home now, mulling over their fight. Mulling over all their fights, most of which have happened recently. One quarrel gave way into another, and another, and it wasn't long before they found themselves fighting all the time._

_And then he left. And that's what's bugging him, because he hates to leave her without saying goodbye, without promising her that he'll be back in one piece. He hates that they're fighting and he's missing her, hates that he hasn't spoken to her in days and he's missing her, hates that no matter what happens, he'll always miss her. Because he loves her, and she loves him, and somehow that will never change._

_Tomorrow is a new day, one that hasn't arrived yet. He's tempted to call her, if only to apologize and tell her how much he misses her, if only to hear her apologize too and tell him that she'll wait for him to come home. But then there's tomorrow, and all the consequences it brings, and so he walks past the phone and uses all of his willpower to ignore it, to keep his fingers from dialing the numbers he doesn't even have to memorize; they're ingrained in his mind, just like everything else about their life together._

_Seconds pass, and they morph into minutes. _

_Minutes pass, and they morph into hours._

_Hours pass, and he stares at the blinding red digits on the alarm clock, unable to fall asleep. It's been two weeks, and he realizes that it's the longest two weeks he's ever endured._

_The clock reads 4.12 a.m., but he knows that like him, she won't be asleep either. And so, sighing, he picks up the phone and allows his fingers to dial the familiar numbers, the numbers that will bring him to her, bring him home._

_It's 4.13 when she picks up. It's 4.13 when after two long weeks, he hears her voice again. It's 4.13 when he speaks her name, the name of a person he cannot and will not live without._

"_Kenz?"_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kensi's P.O.V<strong>_

"I _know _him, G."

I'm stressing the point again, a point we've been through over and over. "So do I." He tells me. "But the question now is, from where?"

"Callen, _think_. He was with Daisy that day."

_Daisy_. He's only ever met my cousin once, and I watch as understanding dawns in his eyes. I watch as he realizes why I've dragged him into this same old office again, an office we used to come to all the time; our little hiding spot. We used to come in here and disappear long enough for Hetty to come looking for us, muttering about _office hours _and such. The truth was, we'd come here for privacy. Not just for…_certain activities_, but also to talk in private and to discuss sensitive topics, and that's why we're here. Not to figure out where we'd seen that man, but to talk about it, to decide whether we really want to go through with what we know we need to do. Because we do our jobs, no matter what, and we close cases. But this case…it's a little too close for comfort. It's going to dredge up memories and play them over and over, not just mentally, but _literally_. This case…it's more than _just _a case.

"Are you sure he still has the footage?" Callen finally speaks after a few moments of thought.

"Have you ever seen him delete _anything_?" My words are greeted by a smirk.

"True." Callen nods. "But you know what'll happen, Kenz. You know we'll have to go through it over and over again. That guy's our main suspect right now, and this is our best shot at finding out who he is."

"I know." I say slowly. "But we have to. It's just a video, Callen." I force the words out; it's not just a video. He flinches, but quickly recovers.

"You sure you'll be okay?" He walks over and stands next to me, leaning against the old desk. I swallow and put on a fake smile.

"How hard can it be?" I say brightly and it's decided. We know what we have to do.

He observes me for a while, checking to see if I'm really alright. A few seconds later, he nods, defeated. "Okay."

We make our way out. I head back to Eric and Nate; he calls Sam up before trailing after me. Once Sam gets up, Eric turns around to face us. He passes us a list of the names and addresses of our victim's business partners, one to Sam, and one to Callen.

"Those're the names and adds you'll need for now. I'll call and let you guys know if I get anything on that guy."

Sam is about to leave. "Hold on, Sam." Callen tells him, though he's still observing me. Sam stops in his tracks and walks to stand next to Callen.

"What's up, G?"

I take a deep breath. I know what happens after this. It won't be an easy case; but then again, it never is. Callen nods towards me; now everyone's looking at me.

"Eric, pull up our wedding footage."

* * *

><p><strong>And there it is, the first chapter. Just three days after the prologue!<strong>

**Okay, first things first : the flashbacks. I'm gonna explain this once, so listen up. The first flashback in every chapter shows them in their early days, starting from their last weekend off for their honeymoon. The second flashback depicts what went wrong and caused them to split, starting with Callen's undercover op after their fight, which you just read. Hope this clears things up, but feel free to ask me anything!**

**And I know what you're thinking : No Deeks? Sorry guys, but I still can't write Deeks without having him go through a lot of bad things. Not his fault; just blame it on the writers who insist on Densi scenes ALL. THE. TIME. I might write him in the future, though.**

**That's it for now, but remember : review, PM me, e-mail me, tweet me, hit up my website. I'm an easy person to contact! And thanks for reviews, people! **

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**May 2011.**_


	3. Chapter 2

**Leftover Love**

**Chapter Two : Memories Linger…**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kensi's P.O.V<strong>_

Eric gulps. Nate swings his head around and openly stares at me. Sam knows better than to question me, but he's giving me a look. A _sometimes-I-don't-know-what-you're-thinking _look. Hetty stays, as ever, coolly composed. In the midst of all this, I search for Callen's reassuring gaze. I let go of the breath I had been unconsciously holding when my eyes meet his. He tells me, _don't worry, we'll be alright_. He tells me, _don't worry, I won't let them get to you. _Most importantly, he tell me, _don't worry, you're the most important person to me and I'll always do anything for you_.

Eric dutifully gets around to pulling up the footage once he's over the shock. Callen comes to stand next to me and we lean against the table, eyes on the screen. Sam stands in a corner, arms crossed, eyes wary. I feel Hetty's observant and thoughtful eyes on me; Nate's inquisitive gaze lingering on Callen. Ignoring all of this, I turn to Callen one last time, just for reassurance. He catches my gaze and nods once, slowly. In the dim light of the OSP room, he reaches for my hand and gives me a comforting squeeze, reiterating his stand: _Don't worry, we'll be alright; I'll always have your back_.

On the screen, curlicue script scrolls across the screen in black and white, one of Eric's many light touches to the video. Slowly, I take in the elegant words, counting on Callen's reassuring hold to keep me from flinching away.

_Kensi & Callen_

_August the 7__th_

Slowly the words fade away, giving way to a snapshot of us cutting the cake. And then there's a clip of me wandering around, Eric's narrative fast and excited in the background. "And now she's greeting…wait, that one's hot. Oh crap, I gotta get rid of this audio later." A round of chuckles pass around us as Eric suddenly finds his shoes immensely interesting.

We pass through a few more video clips, and though we're wasting time here, I haven't the heart to ask Eric to forward through all of this. And yet at the same time, I feel like walking out of this room, this building, this area. I'm saved from a hard decision when Daisy appears on the screen, tugging someone's hand. Our suspect's hand, that much I'm sure. Daisy has my features, but somehow looks entirely different. She wears her hair short and blunt, won't be spotted dead without some sort of glasses on her, and dresses as if every day is a hippie convention. I'd always wondered how I would look like as a hippie; one glance at Daisy reminded me of why I'd steered clear of that path.

The light but cautious air shifts into something deeper; it's dark and tense. We're all on high alert now, watching and mentally recording every single movement on the screen. Seconds pass; I'm sorely tempted to curse Eric: Why the heck hadn't he zoomed out or something, anything that would have given us a clear view of our suspect? He's saved from a rant courtesy of me when the camera swerves around to give us a full picture of the man; the same red-headed, brown-eyed man I'd recognized.

Eric doesn't wait for any instructions; he freezes the frame and starts running all sorts of searches simultaneously. Pleased with his work, he restarts the video. We watch cautiously as the camera approaches Daisy and her friend; Eric starts narrating again.

"And here we've got Daisy, Kensi's long-lost hippie cousin!" He declares gleefully. "So tell us, Daisy, how was Kensi as a kid?"

Daisy pauses momentarily, thinking through her answer; I know her next words, each and every one of them. "Pretty much the same." She finally says. "Not someone you'd like to mess with. So I suggest that you carefully edit this video before she ever sees it." Off-screen, I know Eric's gulping, nodding obediently. After an awkward moment, he turns to film the man, who's managed to hide most of his face since he was first caught on video. "And who's this guy here? Something you wanna share, Daisy?"

"Oh," Daisy starts, pulling on the man's arm, causing him to become fully visible to us. "This is Scott." She introduces, and the man smiles tightly.

And then the screen fades before giving way to a clip of Nate hitting on a friend of mine.

"Eric, what just happened?" Callen asks cautiously, though somewhat irritated. Eric frantically taps on his keyboard, while offering an explanation.

"Things got a little awkward after that, so I cut out the footage. Hold on; I should be able to find it somewhere." We wait patiently for a few seconds; it's not long before Sam speaks up.

"Do you have it or not, Eric?"

Eric pulls up a folder; I see immediately the problem at hand: there are dozens of clips here, none of them properly labeled; all according to the order in which they'd been uploaded. "Erm," Eric starts nervously. "This might take a while." He admits.

"A while as in?" Sam questions.

"You might wanna go check out those names on the list first." Eric elaborates, letting us know just how long this might take. I sigh; there's no point in rushing Eric. Apparently Callen and Sam have come to the same conclusion; they each pick up the abandoned lists and run through them, mapping out a path. Sam leaves first; Callen waits for me to move.

"C'mon, Kenz." He beckons. I shoot Eric one last look.

"Call us-" I start.

"-when I'm done. I know." Eric finished for me, resuming his work before I can get in a reply. Nodding affirmatively, more so to myself than Eric, I move towards Callen and let him lead me out of the building towards his car.

"I'm calling Daisy," I inform him as we get in. I willingly take the passenger seat, letting him drive. "See if she remembers anything about this Scott." Callen nods, agreeing.

"Good plan." I've punched in the numbers before he's started the car; it takes Daisy all but ten seconds to pick up the phone. Callen's pulled out into the main street now.

"Daze? Hey, it's Kensi. Remember that guy you brought to my wedding…"

* * *

><p>"<em>If Sam cracks one more joke about us being late to work…" Kensi leaves her threat hanging; something infinitely much more dangerous than a complete threat.<em>

"_I'll side with you, definitely." Callen smirks, having grown tired of his partner's endless teasing. And besides, if being with Kensi had thought him anything at all, it was to side with her as much as possible. As long as she was being rational, of course._

"_Only because you're being smart," Kensi smiles, having reached the same conclusion as Callen. He grinned, sitting down in his desk._

"_You know me so well." He teases before focusing on all the paperwork Hetty had dumped on him, her way of punishing him for the Armani suit he'd ruined earlier this week._

"_Better than most," Kensi concedes, rifling through the various folders on her desk, searching for one in particular, their newest case. In between filling out forms and typing out reports, they shoot each other looks and occasionally start up a conversation._

_It's ten past nine when Sam strolls in leisurely, having assumed that he would be the first in. He stops dead in his tracks when he spots the couple at their respective desks, working in peace. They look up as he sinks down to his chair, a mischievous glint in Kensi's eyes; a smirk on Callen's face._

"_So Sammy-boy," He starts as Kensi tries to hold back a laugh. "Meet any nice girls you'd like to bring home?"_

_Sam stopped teasing them after that morning…for a few months, at least._

* * *

><p><em>He was undercover again; becoming someone else every week had never taken its toll on him, but as of late, it was all catching up to him. Maybe it was her accusation; the words she'd uttered while in grief: "<em>You don't know who you are anymore._"_

_And truly, without her, he was starting to lose a part of himself, that part of him that couldn't survive alone; that _refused _to go back to his empty life. Sam's voice in his ear brings him back to the situation at hand; shaking off his thoughts, he tries to focus._

"_G, you alright in there? Bunch more guys just came in, this doesn't look so good." Discreetly, he picks up his phone, pretending to answer a call for his cover's benefit._

"_Man, what's taking you so long? You gonna leave me alone?" It's a signal and Sam gets it immediately._

"_I'll send Kensi in." Sam suggests._

"_Yeah, yeah. See you." He says indifferently, hanging up. On the inside, he's worried for Kenz, as usual. Small op or big, he's always been worried about his team, Kensi in particular; first as the only girl, then someone he cared for immensely, then the one person he couldn't live without._

_It doesn't take long for her to come in and command everyone's attention; in the brief time it takes for her to walk up to the bar and get a drink, he's managed to spot their target without tipping anyone off. Their guy sits in a dark booth, lingering in the darkness while everyone else slowly moves to the bar. Taking advantage of this distraction, Callen gets up, unnoticed by anyone, and casually closes the distance between him and the target. _

_As he passes by her, he can't help but shoot her a lingering look. To excuse his slip-up which has everyone watching them, he speaks up. "Do we know each other?" He asks with admirable indifference._

_Her words are few, but meaningful._

"_No, not anymore."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Callen's P.O.V<strong>_

It's late and we have nothing. Everyone's alibis checked out; everyone except Scott, who turns out to be a total stranger, as far as Daisy's concerned. She found him walking around and started talking to him. All that she knows is that his name is Scott and he told her he's in the Navy, though we're not exactly sure those little tidbits are true.

Eric's been running through the video all day long, searching for different clips in which Scott might have appeared. And while Sam and I have been in and out of the office all day, Kensi's remained with Eric, staying, watching, reliving every single recorded moment of that day.

It's dark when I finally hear someone coming down the steps; when I finally hear _her _coming down the steps. Eric and Nate usually talk as they come down; Hetty makes no sound, possessing the stealth of a ninja; Sam is in the gym, taking everything out on the punching bag. I look up from my desk, which is illuminated by a single lamp, and watch as she sinks into her chair, physically and emotionally drained.

"Go back, Kenz." I advise her softly. "Get some sleep. And yes, I know you didn't get any sleep this weekend." I tack on the last part as an afterthought before she can protest. She rests against the back of her chair, eyes closed in thought.

Neither of us has missed the fact that I told her to go _back_, not _home_. Because her apartment isn't home. Home is the empty house in which I wander aimlessly from room to room, waiting for her; waiting for her laughter to fill up the empty rooms; waiting for her smile to brighten the dark spots; waiting for her to come back to me.

"I think I'll take the couch tonight…unless you're feeling attached?" She teases, flashing me a grin. I get up and move to lean against her desk, arms crossed.

"Are you accusing me of being possessive?"

"It's true." She states, smirking. I lean in, invading her private space. Holding her gaze with my own, I hover just a few inches away from her face, lost in her eyes.

"It is." I agree. "Except I'm generally only possessive of my wife."

_Shit_. I pull away almost immediately, trying to excuse my behavior. "I'm sorry, Kenz," I apologize, still looking at her. "That was out of line." I wait for her to agree, I wait for her to break down, I wait for her to fume.

And then she smiles.

"It's okay," She grins, leaning in towards me as I did to her. "I'm generally quite possessive of my husband too."

Shocked into silence, it takes me quite a while to process her words. While I'm contemplating my reply, she stands up, bags and folders in her hand.

"Go home, G." She smiles softly. "I'm sure you didn't sleep either." She leans in again, caressing my cheek lightly before pulling me in for a one-armed hug. "Good night," She murmurs, pulling away after a moment.

"Good night, Kenz." I say, watching her walk out. "I'll see you tomorrow." She stops in her tracks, turns around and nods; a promise. And then she's gone; out of my sight.

And I'm left with nothing but memories and the lingering scent of her perfume.

* * *

><p><strong>Finally! This chapter felt as if it would NEVER get done. A few parts still don't feel or sound quite right, but I've decided it's just me being fussy as usual. Let me know if you guys notice anything, though!<strong>

**Hoping to get a third and hopefully, longer, chapter up soon. These early ones are barely pushing 2500 words. In the meantime, if you feel like reading a pointless rant on this week's episode of **_**TVD **_**and the **_**Fringe **_**season finale, feel free to click on my site.**

**If you're somewhat sane and **_**don't **_**find this appealing, you can contact me via review, PM or e-mail. And for those of you who **_**have **_**reviewed, thanks, guys! Your reviews make my day!**

**P.S, let's see how much attention you guys have been paying to the flashbacks: there's a reason I wrote these two together. In one, Kensi's confident of something and in the other, her words indicate that she has lost that confidence. Hmm...lemme know in the reviews!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**May 2011.**_


	4. Chapter 3

**Leftover Love**

**Chapter Three : Who Wants To Play Hooky?**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Callen's P.O.V<strong>_

It's been days with close to zero progress; even Eric's caved in and asked for Abby's help. Sam's been working a different case, just a smaller one; his subtle way of saying, _this one's not going anywhere, but hey, do what you want to_.

For the first time in months, Kensi's car is already parked when I pull up to work. She's in early, and that's not a good sign. I know that she's been taking this harder than I have; while Sam and I are out and about questioning people and following leads, she's been hanging around Eric, silently watching the footage, determined to find something.

As I walk in, I notice her limp figure curled up on the couch, her eyes vacant and faraway. I consider calling to her, but she's back the moment I move towards my desk; her sharp senses are no joke. "Morning," I start, moving over to hover near the couch. She pulls herself up into a sitting position, making space for me.

I sit down and wait for her to say something, but seconds pass and I decide to try again. "Kensi, are you okay?" I eye her slumped shoulders and tired eyes; she looks gaunt and pale, and the last time she looked like this, I'd ordered her to take a day off. So I'm prepared for her to be defensive or shrug this off, but she moves to lean against me instead and I note that she's a little too cold.

"Not really," She sighs. "But I'm just tired." She tells me. "And frustrated, too." She adds after a moment's thought. I chuckle; this sounds more like her. Trying to keep the worry I feel for her off my voice, I grin at her.

"Me, too. But I guess this time we're just gonna have to be patient and rely on Abby. Maybe I should call and make sure she gets an extra dose of caffeine; keep her awake all night." I joke.

"By all means, go ahead. And when the guys there start calling us because they have no idea what to do with such a hyper person, I'll make sure they know this one's all on you." She smirks, pulling away from me to get to her desk. I watch her half-heartedly pull out folders and forms, trying to keep herself busy. Risking a glance upstairs, I make a split-second decision.

"C'mon," I put away her work and pull her up from her chair.

"G, what now?" She whines, too tired to put up a fight. I tug on her arm so that she falls in line next to me. Checking again to make sure no one's around, I turn to face her.

"We've got nothing to work with, Kenz. We've met up with everyone involved, ran through every lead; we're obviously just going to have to wait for Abby to call."

"I know that," She tells me, irritated. "Which is why I decided to catch up on some work before Hetty starts lecturing me again."

"None of your paperwork is due until next week, Kensi." I remind her, as familiar with her work as she is.

"I thought I'd get it done now." Her tone isn't very convincing; she's obviously out of excuses to procrastinate and desperate enough to resort to paperwork, of all things, to occupy herself.

"You can get it done some other time; those forms aren't going anywhere, Kenz. Now," I stop walking, pulling her to an abrupt stop. "Are you coming with me?"

"First, I'd like to know _where _you're going." She tells me with a pointed glare. I smirk.

"_We_," I tell her, emphasizing on the 'we', "are going to play hooky."

Her answering grin is one of the most enthusiastic I've seen all week long.

* * *

><p>"<em>Callen, if Sam finds out I'm not really sick, we'll be stuck with paperwork all month." Kensi warns him, again. Her husband's amused expression doesn't waver as he ignores her repeated warning.<em>

"_You're an agent, Kenz. If he drops by later, just play sick." Callen suggests, checking to make sure they've got everything they need. He doesn't need to turn around to know that Kensi is most probably shooting daggers at his back._

"_You're a horrible influence," She says finally, giving in. "I've never ditched work. Ever." She informs him, prompting him to eye her with a questioning look._

"_Never?" He asks, somewhat taken by shock. She nods. "How about high school?" He tries again and is successful as she blushes and looks away._

"_So not the subject, G." She turns away, heading for the kitchen, still somewhat puzzled by Callen's sudden enthusiasm for a day at the beach. Callen trails after her, grinning. _

"_Aww, come on, Kenz. It's not like anyone of us had a perfect attendance in high school. Except Eric and Nate, maybe." He adds after a moment of thought. She smiles at this._

"_Those two probably went to school every single day." She agrees, turning to face him. "Now, will you please tell me why you feel the need to skip work and go to the beach today?"_

_Callen grins, leading her out._

"_Because," He tells her, closing the door behind him._

"_Hetty's planned another lecture on workplace safety. Today."_

_She was quick to get in the car and didn't question his motives again all day long._

* * *

><p><em>It's barely 4 in the morning when he gets up, relieved to see her sleeping, at last. He hasn't been oblivious to her tossing and turning all night; he simply knew it would be best to act ignorant, though he is anything but. He knows how much she's worrying over every single thing; how she's going through every single fight in her mind; how she can't sleep because when she closes her eyes, she sees things she doesn't want to.<em>

_Observing her once more, he's glad to see her in a deep, dreamless slumber. A thought enters his mind and following his instincts, he reaches over for the alarm and switches it off, before thoughtfully turning the time back by 3 hours. She'll probably wake up at 6 anyway, because of her habits, but hopefully she'll fall for this and go back to sleep. Satisfied by the alarm clock which now reads 1.06 a.m., Callen settles in for the next hour, watching his wife's features change from calm to troubled to upset. At 5, he slowly gets up, careful not to jostle her sleeping form, and starts his day._

_When she wakes up, hours later, she's alarmed by the brightness which is filtering in, warming her body. Scowling, she reaches for the alarm clock, wondering how much time she has, if any at all, to get to work by 9. Before she can check the time, though, she spots a note, conspicuously propped up against the clock. Her name is written across the folded sheet, in a familiar scrawl. Drawing up her frame to rest against the headboard, she picks up the note and slowly unfolds it_

Kensi_, he wrote._

I know you'll be pissed at me for this, but you need your rest. Don't bother checking the time; it's behind by 3 hours. And don't try to come in late, either.

You haven't been sleeping these days, and I haven't said anything. But it's gotten to the point where you're scaring me, Kenz. I know things haven't been easy, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you stress yourself.

Go back to bed. Sleep in; get up at noon and eat something. I left some food for you in the fridge. And don't even think of coming to work today; that's an order, Junior Agent.

I'll see you later, okay? We'll have dinner or something; tomorrow's the weekend.

I love you.

Callen

_Reading his words and lightly tracing over the indents left by the pen he used, she finds herself smiling and shaking her head. She was pissed, but only for a while. The anger then turned to wonder when he wrote how he hadn't been oblivious to her troubles. Her heart softened at the thought of him getting up in the morning, sleepless as always, and doing this for her._

_And so she went back to sleep. And when she finally woke up, ready to start her day, she headed for the kitchen, where, true to his words, she found food waiting for her in the fridge. And though she spent the rest of her day cleaning up and getting a head-start on her weekend chores, when he comes back, she feels more rested than she has in weeks._

_And when he comes home, the first words out of her mouth are in response to his parting line._

"_I love you, too."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kensi's P.O.V<strong>_

"I'm not sure this actually counts as playing hooky," I tell Callen, smiling at the sight of him propped up against the railing. Somehow, we've ended up in the balcony, just floors away from Hetty and the team. Callen shrugs.

"We've gotta start somewhere," He tells me. "Just give everyone else a chance to wake up and then we'll go someplace, 'kay?" He promises me. I nod; he's making sense. After all, not everyone else is in the habit of getting an insanely early start on their day. In the comfortable silence we've always shared, I watch him, leaning against a pillar. His clothes are just a little rumpled, indicative of his hurried dressing this morning, and he's freshly-shaven, as usual. His eyes though, hold the tiniest hints as to what he's actually feeling. Walking up to stand next to him, I rest my hands on the railing, taking in the un-obscured view of L.A.

"What's worrying you?" I ask him after a while. It takes him a few moments to face me, an eyebrow raised in question. I cross my arms against my chest, shooting him an incredulous gaze.

"Really, G, we might not be living together anymore, but that doesn't mean I can't still read you. I know you, Callen. Something's nagging at you."

I'm right, of course. He sighs and goes back to gazing at the view. I drop my hands to the railing, standing silently next to him, waiting for him to speak. Eventually, he does.

"Are you okay, Kenz?" He asks softly, taking me by surprise. I'm worried about him, and he's the one asking me if I'm okay? I'll never truly understand G Callen. Before I can get so much as one word in, he speaks again.

"I know how it's been for you. Sam and I are out all the time, doing stuff, and you're with Eric, just watching the tape over and over again, for hours every day, forcing yourself to focus on every single detail. And I'm not saying that I'm perfectly fine, but I'm more worried about you."

His last sentence keeps me from being defensive; of course I'm not really alright, but I don't want him worrying about me. I want him to think of himself, to take care of himself for once.

"It's a little hard," I start truthfully; there's no point in lying to him – he knows me as well as I know him. "Just going over all of it, seeing how happy we were then, knowing what happens after." I feel a burden lifted off my shoulders; keeping this to myself had been hard, and it's just so _easy _to share everything with him, just like I always used to. I take a deep breath and he uses his arms to draw me in and hold me against his chest. I give up trying to explain how I'm feeling and ask him, instead, what I've been asking myself every single second while watching the video.

"What _happened _to us, G?"

He says nothing, at a loss just like I am. He just holds me to him, rubbing against my back comfortingly as I draw in shaky breaths. Finally, when I look up into his eyes, he lets go of me.

"Let's ditch this place."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Callen's P.O.V<strong>_

I take her to the beach near home, the one we used to come to all the time, together and alone. We walk in silence for the first few minutes, my arms wrapped around her, keeping her up as she sorts through all that she's feeling.

Sam's called a few times. I sent him a short text on the way here, while she was driving. _Don't worry about me and Kensi. Just deal with things for today_. I can't blame him for being curious. Sometimes that guy's like an old gossip, wanting to know everything. I ignore my buzzing cell, focusing, instead, on Kensi. She looks much better now, and is probably capable of walking without my aid, but I don't let go of her, and she doesn't slip away from me, and so we remain intertwined like this. Walking aimlessly, I wait for her to start talking.

"I'm so tired," She starts finally, eyes on the waves crashing against the shore. I don't prod, and I don't prompt; I just wait for her to elaborate, if she feels like it.

"Everyone's so curious," She scrunches up her nose. "And I know that they're just being worried and taking care of us, but sometimes I wonder if it's not helping. Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if they'd just stayed out of it."

"And then I think of all the times Sam talked to you and Hetty talked to me, and how they saved us from fighting so many times, and I realize that their being nosy was a good thing, more often than not." She tells me, finally looking up to face me. I look around and pull her farther away from the waves before sitting down on the sand, pulling her down with me. She stares at the water, letting me collect my thoughts.

"Remember that one time I messed with the alarm so that you could stay at home?" I ask her casually. She laughs.

"I was so pissed at you, but then I realized that you were just worried about me, so I let go of it." She tells me, unconsciously intertwining her fingers with mine. I give her a light squeeze, just to reassure her.

"Exactly." I nod. "It's something like that. Look at it this way: Hetty's the busy grandmother, Sam's the over-protective brother and Eric and Nate are those nice cousins everyone has."

"Except no one should have a grandmother like Hetty, it'd give them issues. And Sam's not so much over-protective of me as he is of us. And Nate's not a cousin; he's like a nice but strange neighbor who's always trying to help. Eric's…" She trails off, unsure of what to say of the tech. I grin.

"Eric's Eric." I help her, shrugging. She nods in agreement.

"Eric's Eric." She smiles. After a moment, she speaks up again. "Yeah, I get it now. Thanks, G." I playfully nudge her with my shoulder.

"What are friends-slash-husbands for?"

She laughs, then, and I know she'll be okay, for now. We get up and walk again, though it gets a little awkward when we come upon a huge tree and realize that this is where we got married. Kensi quickly makes some excuse about it getting late and her being hungry, so I agree and we drive back to the now-empty office and get our things before going our separate ways.

"Thanks, again. This was exactly what I needed." She smiles, holding her stuff. I frown.

"As your superior, I'm not sure it's a good thing that you felt the need to ditch work, but as your friend, I'll say, anytime, Kenz."

She leaves and I head home, though I find myself restless. Minutes before the sun sets, I head out and walk towards the beach again, which is rapidly clearing out as everyone gets ready to go home. Walking alone, I quickly realize someone's following me.

"Hi," She greets once she realizes I've noticed her presence. "I'm May. You sure do come around here a lot," She notes, smiling.

"Yeah, I do." I purposely leave my name out of this conversation. I'm sure she realizes this, but she continues, undeterred.

"I'm gonna grab a bite. You wanna join me?"

I smile ruefully. Some people just can't take a hint. Not to mention, no, I don't want to join her. There's only one person I'd like to have dinner with right now. My thoughts lead me to take my hand out of my pocket and show it to her.

"I'm married," I smile, turning her down. "Happily." I add, just to avoid any other suggestions. Leaving her behind me, I start to walk home, not even thinking about what I've just said.

Technically, I _am _married. And I don't plan to change that anytime soon.

* * *

><p><strong>Hmm…tried to make this one a little longer for you guys, so here it is, 3000 words, give or take. Hope you guys enjoy this! And I guess I'll let you guys know, there will definitely be updates every Wednesday and Sunday, though I'm hoping to make them more frequent. But these two days are definite.<strong>

**Oh, and thanks for the reviews, guys! And **_**evershort**_**, I tried to reply to your review but something went wrong. Just to let you know, you got it right! I'm just relieved someone gets what I'm writing! And I get confused too, sometimes. I'm only being meticulous when I write fics, which is why I can keep everything straight. Everything else, though…**

**Once again, you guys can review, PM me, e-mail me, tweet me or hit up my homepage, where I've posted loads of random crap and a few entries ago, an update on my writing plans.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**May 2011.**_


	5. Chapter 4

**Leftover Love**

**Chapter Four : Cracking The Case**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kensi's P.O.V<strong>_

The morning after ditching work, I get in early just to avoid Sam and the inevitable taunting I'm sure to receive sometime today. Making my way up the stairs, I head for Eric, knowing that he'll be totally oblivious and won't even comment on my absence yesterday.

"Hey, Eric. Anything new?"

"Morning! Uh, not much. I'm still running a few things; pulled a license plate from the witnesses, so we're waiting for that. And Abby thinks she'll get something soon." He reassures me, still focused on his work. I look around, relieved to see that Nate's nowhere near; now _he _isn't nearly as clueless. And Hetty is sure to give me the Spanish Inquisition when she finally gets me alone.

"Alright," I nod, leaning against the main desk, taking up my usual post in front of the screen. I'm getting better at this; I don't really notice us so much anymore, not as much as I do the details. And maybe this is why I see what I do; maybe this is why I realize that I've been missing something.

"Eric, go back a few seconds, please." I ask, eyes still on the screen. Eric obediently returns to the last frame, freezing it when I nod. "See that woman he's talking to? She's the only one he made contact with other than Daisy."

"Yeah…hold on, don't you guys know her? I remember taping her wishes or something; didn't make the last cut, though. One minute," He taps away, pulling up another video while I memorize the woman's face and run it against my memories; nothing. I'm pretty sure she was Callen's guest. Eric pulls up the footage and plays it.

"_Anything you want to share with our newlyweds?" _Eric offers, his camera randomly landing on the woman. She nods, smiling.

"_Congrats, Callen and Kensi! I knew you'd always find someone, someday. Lone wolf, my ass! Kensi, you have my respect. Anyone who can tame _that _and still look this good has got to be something. Have a good one, you two!"_

The recording ends there, her smiling face frozen on the screen. Eric looks at me hopefully, hoping to find a glimmer of recognition. "Nothing," I tell him, my smile gone. "I don't remember her at all."

We're about to give up and wait for Eric's search to give us more information when Callen walks in. I freeze for a moment, but immediately collect myself and smile. "Morning."

"Hey, morning, Kenz, Eric." He nods at Eric, coming to stand next to me. Shooting me a quick smile, he focuses on the screen. "What's going on?"

"Not sure. She's the only one our suspect made contact with, so that might explain why he was at the wedding in the first place," I say hopefully, praying that I'm right; maybe this case has nothing to do with us. "Do you know her?"

"Vaguely," He tells me, eyes narrowed in concentration. "Gimme a minute."

Eric goes back to his work while I observe Callen. I realize then, that he's in early, too; Sam hasn't arrived yet. A few seconds pass, but Callen starts speaking before his minute is up.

"That's one of Gibbs' old partners; the three of us used to work together all the time. Her name's Marie Skylar."

"Marie?" I echo, trying out the name. "Yeah, I think I remember her now. She came up to us for a minute or two, then hung around and talked to Gibbs. Tony tried to hit on her!" The past sentence is uttered triumphantly; I _definitely _remember Marie.

"But what's she doing with our guy?" Doubt clouds my voice. I really hope Marie isn't involved in this…in a bad way, at least. For the brief moments I'd met her, I'd genuinely enjoyed her presence.

"No idea," Callen shrugs, trying to downplay his worry. "Maybe she just met him." He suggests.

"Or maybe she brought him." Eric points out the possibility we didn't voice out, in fear of a clash. Glancing around at our suddenly still forms, he grins sheepishly. "Alright, I'm just gonna focus on this."

"G, if we can't get anything after today, we're gonna have to contact her." I say in a hushed aside to Callen, leaning in to avoid being overheard. He nods, albeit reluctantly.

"I guess." I can see the argument within himself; on one hand, he'd like to leave his friend out of this, or at the very least, give her the benefit of a doubt; on the other hand, he'd like to put this behind us as soon as possible. He picks up my hand, lacing our fingers together. "Anything to get this done," He reassures me. I smile, grateful.

"Thanks." I nod. Eric clears his throat, letting us know that he's got something. "What do you have, Eric?" I look up and meet his eager face.

"Abby's just sent me an e-mail. She'll be on in a few more minutes to tell us everything."

* * *

><p><em>Over the tinkling din of fine silverware scraping against porcelain, Kensi and Callen make small talk with the people sitting next to them, keeping up appearances. Once again, they're undercover to get to their target, a well-connected drug lord with a day job practicing law. Their goal is to make sure they are seen by Richard Fields and his wife, Tara, and approach them to get evidence. In the meantime, they're sitting here, addressed as George and Kayla Banks, people who were born into the right circles in the Upper East Side who recently moved to L.A.<em>

_After dinner, they mill around, mingling with various guests, getting more invitations to prestigious events where their target will be. Callen, posing as a trophy husband to a rich and successful wife, keeps close to Kensi, letting her lead. While she makes a round, introducing them to prominent people, he lets her talk and fades into the background, observing everyone, gauging their reaction to this new addition. He glances at the fancy watch Hetty had presented him with earlier this evening – _And _that_, Mr. Callen, is a loan. Which means that if anything happens, you'll have to _pay _for it, and not just with paperwork_. It's almost midnight; they'll be leaving in half an hour or so, which roughly translated means two more conversations. Drifting away from a couple with multiple doctorates and affairs, Kensi leads him to Moira Smith, a young divorcee who knows all the gossip there is. And the thing with gossip is, while most of it is made up, now and then there are bits of real news laced in with all the crap, which is why Kensi has been getting along with Moira quite nicely._

"_Moira!" She calls now; Callen is resigned to the fact that they probably won't get out as early as he'd hoped – it takes ages for Moira to get to the real news, which is what they're interested in. _

"_Kayla, George, fancy seeing you two here." The young redhead speaks with a thick British accent, flushed with joy. "I've been sitting here all night long, watching these boring people talk about real estate, thinking to myself, 'Where in the world is Kayla when you need a good, fun conversation?'" She taps her heels; a subtle sign Callen has come to translate as: Girls only. Kensi knows this, too; turning to face him, she puts on a smile. _

"_George, honey, could you get us something to drink?" Callen nods, releasing his light grip on Kensi's arm._

"_Sure, honey. I'll be back in a minute," He nods in the general direction of the bar, taking off. When he gets there to order them three more glasses of something, he notices Richard Fields sitting on his own, looking lost and forlorn. Placing his order to the young bartender, he settles against the bar, a fair distance away._

"_Hey, Richard, right?" He feigns uncertainty, as if he's just noticed the man. Fields nods, rearranging his features so that they somewhat resemble a cool smile._

"_Yeah…I'm sorry, I'm horrible with names." _

"_George," Callen grins, "Don't worry; I'm not that good with names, too." The bartender places the drinks in front of him, and he picks them up, nodding towards Kensi. "I've got to get these back to my wife. Nice meeting you."_

"_You, too." Fields smiles as Callen leaves. That's his first move; now Kensi just needs to approach the wife soon. Resuming his position next to Kensi, he hands out the drinks to her and a flustered Moira, having caught the end of her question: "Why do you even keep him around?"_

_With a wink towards Callen and a flirty smile, Kensi leans in to answer Moira. "Because he's really, _really_ good in bed." The ladies laugh while Callen smiles uncomfortably, keeping up the show. A few seconds after the laughter dies down, Moira excuses herself, but only after inviting them to the dinner benefit she's throwing a few days later, where they're bound to run into their guy._

_Watching Moira's retreating form, Kensi leans against Callen, his arm wrapped around her waist. She whispers the second part of her answer in his ear, smiling. _

"_And also because I'm really, _really _in love with him." _

* * *

><p><em>Bursting into the hotel lobby, Kensi is obviously fuming, with Callen right behind her. Taking in a deep breath to prepare herself to put on a show, she twists around to face him.<em>

"_And just what was that? Bimbo the fourth? Or fifth? Wait, don't tell me: you've lost count!" She shrieks, drawing more attention to them, hoping that James Dunham is amongst their audience; a sick person who preys on rich divorcees, which is where she comes in._

"_As if I don't know what you do when you're home alone with the help!" Callen growls, shooting her an impressive glare. She reels back as if someone has physically hit her, gasping._

"_I would _never_, and you know that!" Eyes wide, nostrils flaring; Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Callen is giving one heck of a performance, too._

"_Sure," He rolls his eyes, biting back the disgust he feels for accusing Kensi of such a thing. "Let's all just play innocent." Kensi stalks forward towards him._

"_Don't you dare walk away from this one; I _saw _you with my own eyes! And I don't care if it didn't mean anything, because you just keep doing this to me. And no, I don't want any more jewelry and apologies!"_

"_What, you're quitting?" Callen asks, incredulous. _

"_Yes! I'm quitting! You keep hurting me again and again. I'm tired of fighting!" Stunned into silence, Callen's eyes grow wide; the whole thing suddenly sounds too personal for his own comfort. Going undercover while this screwed-up wasn't one of his brightest ideas; obviously, he'd underestimated their issues. Nevertheless, they're both professional and born operators, and there is something to be said about people like them: they get the job done, no matter what._

"_Fine! Leave; see if I care!" He shouts, still holding eye contact. Kensi nods, pulling out her fake wedding band for more drama._

"_You're going to regret this when I sue you for every single penny you have." She threatens, throwing the ring towards him; his reflexes have him reaching out automatically._

"_I want a divorce!" Kensi screams before turning on her heel, stalking towards the elevators. But she hadn't moved fast enough; he'd read her eyes before she turned. And what had him rooted to the spot was genuine horror; fear that went so much deeper than his wife demanding a divorce._

_No, what had him frozen was that her eyes told him she'd actually meant her words._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Callen's P.O.V<strong>_

"Scott Crawford, professional bad guy. This guy's done just about everything! " Abby reports, her form bouncing around on the large screen which has everyone's attention.

"Is he in the Navy?" Kensi asks, trying to gather as much information as possible. She's leaning against the table again; I'm closer to the screen, arms crossed. Abby shakes her head.

"Nope. Nothing to do with the Navy; or the Army, for that matter. He's never done anything patriotic. Just the opposite. Also, he usually goes by lots of different names; just be glad he used his real first name or we would have been running searches until next week, at least." Abby tells us, distracted as she works away on her keyboard.

"I'm sending you everything I've got now; Eric should be able to get more with this. I don't know what made this guy go to your wedding and use his real name, but be glad he did. Okay, that's everything. Let me know if you guys need anything else!"

"What's the rush, Abs?" I wonder; Abby usually prolongs any chance she gets to talk to us since we don't see each other much.

"Gibbs has me working two cases at once." She explains. "Which isn't, you know, a bad thing, but I'm still doing some work on our cold cases, so…" She shrugs, trailing off. I nod, feeling bad that we've added to her already-heavy work-pile.

"Thanks, Abby. We appreciate it."

"Aww, shucks. Just get me a drink the next time you're here." Abby suggests, smiling. I note Gibbs coming up from behind her, carrying with him the mandatory drink.

"Gibbs!" Abby squeals. "Thanks! Oh hey, look who's here." She nods at the screen, already drinking from the tall cup.

"Callen, Kensi. You guys okay?" Gibbs asks, waiting for Abby to focus on her work.

"Yeah, we're fine." I reassure my old friend. "Just had Abby run some stuff for us; she's still the best." Gibbs nods.

"We'll leave you guys to it, then. See you next time."

"Bye guys!" Abby waves.

"Bye, Abby. Thanks." Kensi says before the image closes down, the screen once more displaying the ever-present case files.

"So, Eric, what did Abby get?" I start, not wanting to waste any time; this case has taken up enough time as it is. No one leaves the room; even Hetty hovers unobtrusively by the door.

"Tons," Eric tells us, running through the information Abby sent him. "So basically, he's involved in loads of things, organized crime, it seems."

"But what was he doing with our guy?" Kensi muses out loud. I take up my former position next to her.

"Here's the thing: I pulled up the shop's inventories and bills and stuff, and I'm not so sure they're running _just _a normal shop." Eric shares his theory.

"A cover-up," I catch on immediately, finding this possible. After all, it wouldn't be the first time we dug up something like this. Eric nods.

"But the thing is, these guys might not know it. It seems that Crawford was responsible for most of the paperwork and all; the Marines mostly just ran the shop in between doing everything else." Eric wheels away from his workstation for a moment, working on his touchpad, pulling up various files for us to see.

"He's got enough experience to pull this off." Sam comments, evaluating all of Crawford's offences.

"But would he need any help? And what's he doing anyway?" Kensi asks, already working out a plan. She looks at me for directions; I'm team leader, after all.

"We'll check out all the other Marines again; if they really don't know anything, we'll try to keep them out of this." I decide. Hetty drifts away; this seems to be a sign for all of us to get on with our work.

"Nate, go through all of his records, names, crimes; see what you can do. Eric, dig up anything Abby hasn't." Nate comes up to lean against the table, waiting for Eric to give him the information he needs. Eric goes back to his computer, already tapping away. Sam nods at me before walking down to get his things; Kensi lingers and then falls in step beside me as I walk out.

"You okay?" I ask her; she's uncharacteristically quiet. I brush my shoulders against hers as we walk, deliberately closing the distance between us. I wait for her to speak; no use trying to speed up her thinking process. Eventually, she stops just before we reach the stairs.

"Yeah," She answers. "I'm just…relieved, you know? We've been hanging around with nothing for days now, and when Abby gave us all this…it's just a good thing. Maybe we'll finally close this case and Eric can keep the footage away." She smiles, trying to reassure me.

"Seriously, G; I'm okay." I nod absentmindedly; I've just thought of something. I pull out my keys, dangling them in front of her.

"You wanna drive?" I ask unnecessarily.

"Sure thing," She grins, already walking towards the stairs. "I'll go get my stuff and the files."

"I'll see you by the car." She comes to an abrupt stop. "I just forgot to tell Eric something." I reassure her before she can question me.

"Okay; see you."

I turn around and walk back to the center before she's hit the last steps.

"Nate, do you mind?" I gesture for the door, asking for a few minutes. Nate looks at me, curious, but otherwise obliges, shrugging as he leaves. Eric stops working and turns to face me.

"What's up, Callen?"

"Eric, the footage," My words come out hurried; I don't want Kensi to get suspicious if I'm up here too long. "Do you still need it?"

He nods. "Yeah; I'm still running through it, trying to see who else he interacted with. So far we've got your friend, but we're still not sure who brought him along, so…"

"Alright," I work out a plan in my mind. "I want you to do that discreetly. Work on it now and get through as much as you can; then keep it all away. I don't want Kensi watching this again." I order.

"Oh," He suddenly understands. "Okay, I get it. Don't worry; I should be done before you guys get back. I'll put everything away." He promises. I smile.

"Thanks, Eric. Oh, and don't tell Kensi anything about this, okay? She can look out for herself." Eric rolls his eyes; we're all cautious of what we do for Kensi, trying not to make her feel as if she stands out as the only girl.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I realize that Sam's already gone; I must have been up there longer than I'd thought. Hurrying, now, towards the exit, I see Kensi lounging against the front door, arms crossed. I pull open the passenger door and get in; she waits for an explanation before getting in, probably deciding to drive first.

"So, what was that?" She comments a few seconds into the drive.

"Nothing," I smile innocently, letting her go crazy with curiosity.

"Great," She rolls her eyes. "We crack the case and now you've got me guessing something else."

But the smile on her face lets me know that everything's alright; Kensi's _ecstatic _that the case is almost over.

And so am I. Except…I'm not sure how we go back to being normal after this. Because this case, this particular case which had us reliving our wedding over and over, taunting us with how happy we were?

It kinda makes me want to go back to those days.

* * *

><p><strong>Yes! It's still Sunday; I made my self-imposed deadline!<strong>

**Okay, so all celebrating aside, I hope you guys like this. And just to let you guys know, I've got this all figured out: Prologue, 8 chapters and an epilogue, just like **_**THTOYL**_**. So we've got another four chapters and an epilogue. Think it's enough to get these two to work things out? Hopefully.**

**And for those of you who read **_**BS**_**, I'm happy to tell you that it's active again. In fact, I posted a chapter a few days back, and I've got everything figured out for this one, too. It's going to be much more dramatic than it started out.**

**Once again, thanks for all the reviews, guys! Really appreciate it. And I wouldn't, you know, mind, if you were to leave another review for this one. But really, it's up to you, if you'd like to review…or PM me…or e-mail me…or tweet me. You can even hit up my homepage.**

**Just, you know, in case you were wondering. Oh, and while we're talking about things you guys were possibly wondering: The text on my new profile pic reads _I'm A CaKe Kinda Gal_. 'Cause, you know, a few of you were asking.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**May 2011.**_


	6. Chapter 5

**Leftover Love**

**Chapter Five : Midnight Conversations**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Callen's P.O.V<strong>_

It's ten at night when I get the call from Eric, asking me to come in immediately.

As always, my body freezes into immobility and my heart rate picks up, worried about what this might be; worried if _this _might involve Kensi. I force the usual words out of my mouth.

"What's this about, Eric?"

Only seconds after he tells me that it's about our suspect, I hang up and let go of the sharp breath I'd sucked in. Only then does my heart rate go down to normal, my limbs suddenly capable of motion once more. This used to bother me, once; a long time ago. How could I worry about one single person that much; enough to be paralyzed in fear? How could I allow such leverage over myself, doing what I do?

And then I realized: Kensi was doing the exact same thing. And although that didn't make it right – how can you ever justify putting the one you love in constant danger? – it did convince me to just let it go. So these days, I worry about her. A lot. And I don't let that get to me.

But sometimes, I slip up. I slip up and I spend my sleepless nights thinking of ways to protect her, even though I know she can protect herself. I spend my days off thinking of the ways someone could get to her, even though I know this one's out of my control. I spend most of my time worrying about her, even though her life would have been just as dangerous without me; maybe even more, without me to protect her.

Kensi can take care of herself; everyone who knows her knows _that_. But sometimes, I'd like to take care of her. If only to show her that all those fights meant nothing; that I still care for her.

That I still love her.

* * *

><p>I'm the first to get to Eric, and naturally, that gets me worried again. Kensi drives faster than me; she lives closer. But then I reason with myself, knowing her as well as I do. She's probably making coffee, to wake herself up. And dressing might take her a little longer, considering the fact that she was probably asleep when Eric called, unlike me.<p>

Before I can get worked up over this, she and Sam walk in together; Hetty comes in a little later. She walks up to me, fully alert despite the hour. "Hey."

I run my eyes over her; a check. She seems okay, no signs of distress. "Hey," I smile. "Got coffee in you yet?" She lightly smacks my shoulder.

"I can function just fine without it; thank you very much." I keep my eyes on hers, prodding. "Fine, I had coffee. Now can we get on with this?" She directs the last part of her sentence to Eric, prompting him to start.

"Okay, so I kept digging after you guys left, and I found a few other files on Scott Fields a.k.a Mac Burns, his most frequently-used alias. So then I went through all the files again, and I realized that in the paperwork the other guys wouldn't see, he used _this _name instead of Fields. So then I ran it through –"

"Eric, what did you get?" I interrupt, somewhat impatient. He nods sheepishly, having caught himself babbling again.

"Burns is doing an arms deal. It goes down tomorrow night."

Oh shit. Tomorrow night. That leaves us with no time for preparation, enforcements…anything. We're going to wing this.

I look around, trying to come up with a plan.

"What do we know?" I ask Eric.

"I checked through his previous deals, and the people he was involved with. Seems the Marines really aren't in on this one; it's going down on the weekend, so no one will be around, except Burns. Or Fields. Crap, this one's complicating-"

"We get the point, Eric." Kensi interrupts, impatient. I shoot her a quick grin, one that's chastising her. _Patience, Kenz_.

She rolls her eyes, so I know she gets the message.

"Okay, so thing is, I thought maybe you could let the deal go down, then get in after everyone else is gone; would be safer, you know." I nod; Eric's starting to catch on to things. "But then I found out just _who _would be delivering the weapons…well." Eric pulls up a file on the screen; it's self-explanatory.

"Michael Pike. Great." Sam says dryly. We nod in agreement.

Michael Pike is one of our most-wanted guys; Sam's gone under four times to get him. And there had been many other agents before him. It was the first time any of them had failed. Which means that Sam has quite a bone to pick with Pike.

"Are you sure, Eric?" I double-check; this changes everything.

"100%."

I sigh, causing Kensi to look at me. In that moment, I know that she knows what I'm thinking. There is no other way; Sam and Kensi have been compromised, where this case is concerned.

"Callen, come on, you can't-"

I reach out to close the distance between us, grasping her hand. The complaint dies on her lips; I can see the plain worry in her eyes, and for a moment, just a moment, I ask myself if there really is no other way.

Just like I'm constantly worried about her, Kensi spends most of her free time concerned for my safety. I know this, because I've seen this happen every time I go undercover; she gets the same worried look in her eyes, the very one I get when she goes. But nothing's ever happened; she's here, and I'm here; safe.

I look up to Hetty, who's drifted closer to our circle; even Nate is nearer than usual. Eric's looked up from his screen; Sam's got his arms crossed.

Kensi's still looking at me; pleading.

"I'm going in alone."

* * *

><p>"<em>G," She sighs, rolling over so that she's on her side, facing him. He turns his eyes on her, not that it makes much of a difference; the only source of light is coming from the moon, small slits that show in between the curtains. "I want a baby."<em>

"_Well, if you'd told me that earlier…" He smirks. "Not that I mind. I mean, we could always get in late tomorrow. I'm sure Hetty wouldn't mind."_

_He waits for her to swat him on the arm, grinning, or maybe to tilt her head up so that he can capture her lips in a kiss. Instead, she remains in her still position, her eyes dead serious._

"_No, really, G." He stops grinning, suddenly earnest._

"_You know I'll give you anything you want; do anything for you. But why, Kensi?" He asks her, genuinely curious. A thought occurs to him, but he wisely refrains from voicing it; his wife is getting nesting instincts! The very thought causes a grin which threatens to show on his face. Not that he hasn't thought of kids; children they could call their own._

"_I don't know." She shrugs, moving so that she's resting on her back, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling; letting her thoughts take her away._

"_I want someone we could take care of; protect. Someone who would know that we would always, always love them, no matter what. Always." She stresses, turning around to look at him again. His heart swells at the thought of Kensi, her abdomen rounded with a baby; _their _baby. He nods, a consent. But she goes on, imploring._

"_I need to know that you want this, too, Callen. Not that you're just giving me what I want. I need to know that if anything happens to me, the kid would have the best father possible, one that would always remind our children that their mother loved them very, very much, and that she misses them. I need to know that our kids would have a good father, one who loved them unconditionally."_

_He moves his hand to rest on her side, the warmth from his hand spreading to her body. He thinks about having a child with Kensi; a girl, with her warm eyes and big heart, her enthusiasm. He thinks of how he would always love the little one, no matter what, because a part of Kensi would always be with him. He thinks of how this would be something; a testament to their relationship. To him, a child means: we loved each other, very, very much. And we were here. And we chose to have you. We chose you. And we love you._

_He moves his eyes; connects them to hers, where he sees a question, a request. She's sincerely asking him this, and his answer means everything. She isn't just asking him, only to disregard his words later; she's really giving him an option._

_And years ago, or maybe just months ago, he would have said no. He would have denied her this, no matter the cost, because they weren't ready. Because it was too dangerous for them to even be together, what more start a family. They had sick people looking for them every single day; hunting them for revenge. They put themselves in danger every day they went in to work, because that's just their job; their nature._

_But now, they're ready. Despite the fact that nothing has changed – they still live in constant danger – he knows that he can give Kensi this, at the very least. Something, someone, who would always love her, should anything happen to him. And he knows this is what she wants, too; not another being to worry over, but one to love, one who would love them just as absolutely as they love each other._

_Kensi wants to give him something he's never had; something even she feels she's never had. Kensi wants to give him a family, one that would always love him._

_Something changes in his eyes, and hers react. Where there was a question, there's now a spark, a sort of joy. And he knows that his eyes are shining, too, with this happiness. Because none of them are giving up anything for the other; there is no sacrifice in this. There is just them, and their equal love for each other, and the natural next step._

_When he speaks, though he says only one word, it's all she needs. Because sometimes, the best things in life don't need to be discussed and talked about; they just require some thought, and understanding, and one word:_

"_Okay."_

* * *

><p><em>It's an unseasonably cold night in L.A.<em>

_He creeps into the bedroom, though he's probably better off in the other room; at least that way they'd both manage to get some sleep. As it is, they'll probably spend all night tense, lying next to each other, too tired to fight; too tired to leave._

_But it's cold, and he's cold, not just physically, and he craves the familiar warmth that comes from lying down next to her, knowing that she is safe and sound and just right there, at arm's length. He craves the warmth and heat of her body, knowing that no matter what, he can reach over and hold her and tell her he loves her, knowing, without doubt, that she loves him too._

_Climbing under the sheets, he feels her awareness; she's not asleep, and this doesn't come as a surprise in the least. Resting on his back, unconsciously mimicking her position, he fixes his eyes on the plain ceiling, letting his thoughts roam as she does hers._

_There's a flash across the sky; a deep rumbling comes next. Thunder and lighting, in perfect synchrony. Outside, the rain pounds against the trembling window; he might have to keep an eye on that. Shadows dance across their walls, proof of the shrieking wind._

_Inside, it is inexplicably colder. He had hoped that being next to her, in the familiar darkness with nothing but each other would have thawed both of them out, but it's not working. He's here, and she's here, and they're both still; yet there's the familiar body heat, and the silent rise and fall of her breathing; a soothing pattern._

_They lay there, awake and aware, for what could possibly be ages until she speaks; yet nothing changes. No one moves, or shifts, or does anything. Her words are as soft as a breeze, effortless in this storm; leaving behind no mark, something he could just ignore._

"_We can't do this anymore."_

_He thinks; he's been doing a lot of that lately, even more than usual. Things have gone so wrong; none of this had been planned, but then again, what in life goes according to plan? Their ever-shifting nature should have taught him that; _had _taught him that, in fact. But settling down with Kensi…it had weakened him; softened him. Where there once stood walls, you could now find welcoming doors and windows; where there once stood barriers, you could now find bridges. Where there once was hate, there now was love, a lot of it, most of it for the woman next to him. _

_G Callen was still a legend; tales of his exploits still floated far and wide. Aspiring agents still researched him, hoping to one day work in his presence; criminals still feared him, suspecting each new comer to be the mysterious stranger they'd heard of, once upon a time._

_But lately, these tales had shifted; there was now rumor of a softer side; the possibility of a weakness: loved ones. But no one challenged him; there was still too much fear instilled in them for this agent._

_But the things is, G Callen wasn't the same; not anymore. And it wasn't just because of Kensi; things that he had put off for years now threatened to catch up to him. Unanswered questions and silent wonders filled his mind, never truly gone. There were days where he could pretend, as he had done for most of his life. There were days he could lie to Kensi's face, putting on such a good act that even she, the one person who truly knew him in this world, could be fooled._

_But then there were the days where he was too tired, too frustrated to even cover up his reality. And those were the days they would fight; she would chastise, he would snap, she would yell, he would say something hurtful and she would storm off, disappearing for days on end._

_No, this was not how it was supposed to go. And they couldn't do this, not anymore. The pattern – fight, make up, fight again – was becoming too much of a natural order; an inevitable cycle._

"_I know."_

_Two words; those are all she really needs. It's him, admitting that yes, we've screwed up, and yes, I hate this just as much as you do. But at the same time, she knows this will change nothing. They would remain silent for the rest of the night, her disappointment and his frustration an invisible barrier; one that would dissolve days from now, when they would laugh and smile and kiss. And then there would come a day where he snapped or she yelled, and it would start all over again; the barrier would slowly form a glacier, something permanent and real and unbearable._

_They can't do this anymore, and they know it. _

"_I don't want to give up." Her words are strong; but spoken as a soft sigh, a feathery whisper with no energy, no emotion, no real urgency._

_He doesn't want to give up, either; it's not in his nature. So he moves closer, holds her in his arms, keeps her close to him; finding the warmth he had been searching for. And she lets him; she burrows into his hold, keeping her head to his heart, reminding herself that this was all she needed._

_Him, alive and well with her. Anything and everyone else could go to Hell; they could work through this, because he was all she wanted, all she needed._

_But was she enough for him?_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kensi's P.O.V<strong>_

We're pulling an all-nighter; the first one this month. Sam's downstairs, pulling together whatever he can, while we stay upstairs, doing whatever we can at this hour, which isn't much.

I twist around to check the time; it's gone midnight. Callen notices this subtle movement, standing as close to me as he is. "Are you okay?" He murmurs, keeping away from drawing the interest of everyone else. I catch his worried tone and feel like screaming; how can he be worried about me when he should really be worried about himself?

I know that there is every possibility of him pulling through this just fine. In fact, the odds are with us. But I also know that there is every possibility of him _not _pulling through this; I know that there are a million ways and more that this could go wrong. And that, in itself, is enough to make me _not _okay.

"No," I tell him, despite the fact that I shouldn't; it's an unspoken rule that we don't worry each other at times like these. After all, he's going undercover in a few short hours; he doesn't need to worry about me. And yet…I can't keep doing this; letting him go, watching him placing himself in situations where he could potentially get killed.

He takes this calmly; looking around the room, checking if anyone is watching us, he loosely grips my arm. Finding no wandering eyes, he slowly leads me out of the room…into the old office.

Shutting the door behind us, he lets my arm go, propping both of us against the desk. I have so much to say; no words escape from my mouth. Sensing my reluctance, he speaks up first.

"Kenz, I'll be fine."

"I know."

"It'll be quick; I'll be back here within the night, back with you."

This takes me by surprise; _back_?

"I'm going with you." I protest weakly; I know his mind is made up. He knows mine is, too. His jaw clenches for a moment, before he relents.

Or so I thought.

"Kensi, please." Well, he's obviously changed tactics. Now it's time to plead, apparently.

"G, _please_, I need to be there. It's bad enough you'll be going in _alone_," My voice breaks; I can't see him there, alone with one of NCIS's most wanted, a sicko who was apparently at our wedding and a bunch of weapons. I draw in a deep, shuddering breath.

"I need to be there." I say slowly, clearly; there is no way around this. I will not stay here, away from him while this is going down. I need to be within running distance to him.

His eyes probe mine, searching, until, finally, he nods. Slowly, deliberately, he walks closer to me; now he's just _that_ far away; I could just reach over; touch him. But should I?

He makes the decision for me; his arms circle me like vices, resting on the small of my back, a perfect fit as usual. I bury my head on his shoulders, let my arms circle his neck; it's familiar and comforting and suddenly, I realize that _oh_, I'd missed this.

His hands start to move in a repetitive motion; up and down, up and down, comforting me. Looking up, I place my mouth close to his ears, unable to speak in more than a shaking whisper.

"Please, be careful."

I know it's not rational; I shouldn't be this worried over a small op; well, relatively small. But some part of my brain tells me that it isn't just this op; it's the case and the fact that I haven't sleep in _days _and the fact that I love him so much-

Suppressing a gasp, my eyes close of their own accord. But there is no fall-out, there is no emotional debate, because _of course _I still love him.

His hands move up, searching, until he slowly, gently steps back, looking me in the eye. "I promise."

"I'll be there, Callen. I'll be there and if anything goes wrong, I'll go in; I don't care." I protest before he can even get a word in. "If you insist on doing stupid, dangerous things, then I'll do the same." I smile.

He deliberates; I know it goes against his every instinct to give in to me- that's part of our relationship, the constant bickering and arguing and small disagreements. Finally, he nods, closing his arms around me again, holding me against him.

"Thank you." I whisper fervently, so relieved and glad, and yet terrified and worried for all of us now.

"Anything, for you."

Those familiar words; this familiar and comforting hug; everything that we've been through – it finally becomes too much.

With a strangled sob, I lean my head on his shoulder, letting it all out, knowing, with some small measure of comfort, that it's okay; it's Callen and he's here and he'll always be here.

Because this is it; this is us: fights and arguments aside, we're a team, the two of us.

And that hasn't changed.

* * *

><p><strong>Well…I'm really not on good terms with this one. I've been through it and through it, and this is what I've ended up with: a 3800 word chapter I'm not all that happy with, and yet somehow, really pleased with, because I think there's sufficient CaKe-ness in this one, don't you think? But then there's the case, which I will admit is a little half-assed, because let's face it, the majority of my focus is on CaKe, which leaves an itty-bitty bit of my brain on the case…and so I really don't know what I'm doing and okay, I'll stop babbling now.<strong>

**Hmm…well, guess you guys will just let me know what you think of this one! Review, PM me, e-mail me, tweet me or hit up my homepage. And guys, thanks for the reviews! Which I couldn't reply to, since there's been a glitch or something, but there's a reply to a few of you up on my homepage, including yours, **_**evershort**_**. **

**Going to work on **_**Baby Sister **_**now!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**May 2011.**_


	7. Chapter 6

**Leftover Love**

**Chapter Six : When Things Go Wrong**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Callen's P.O.V<strong>_

As the sun begins to set, we're getting ready to leave the office and stake out the area before I go under. Eric's still trying to pull up as much information as he can; he, too, is worried about how blindly we're going into this.

We don't know how many people will be involved; we have no idea whatsoever of what kind of weapons are being sold. We're not even sure how I'll make it in. We've thought of several methods, but Kensi came up with the best idea: For me to simply stumble into the shop, posing as a customer to get more information out of Burns before Pike can come in, and also to plant a few bugs here and there.

If all goes well, I'll be out with the others while the deal goes down, and we'll all storm in. In the event of complications, though…

"G, we're leaving in an hour. Hetty says you should go change and get on your earphone, speaker, all that." Sam tells me, passing by me on his way upstairs, back to Eric. All of us have been going up and down, in a rushed frenzy. It occurs to me that I haven't seen Kensi since I brought her donuts early today.

"Will do. Hey, have you seen Kensi?"

"Not in the last couple of minutes," Sam shrugs, climbing up the stairs. "She's somewhere around." He says vaguely.

"That's helpful," I snort. "Thanks, Sam."

"Sure," With one last nod, he turns the corner and is gone. I risk Hetty's wrath by putting off my trip to Wardrobe; I need to see Kensi first and make sure that she's alright. This morning was inevitable; I'd been expecting Kensi to break down for the last few months. But it didn't make me hurt any less at the sight of her tears; her blindly clutching on to me, blubbering and choking on her own words, struggling to breath.

With these images in my head, I speed up and head up to the old balcony; it's sunset. This is my best bet. Walking into the open hallway, I quickly reach the end of it and pull open the old, tainted doors; Kensi is there, leaning against the railing.

"Hey," I start softly, hesitantly; I have no idea on her current state of mind. She turns around and my heart breaks all over again; her eyes are red-rimmed, her cheeks are tear-stained.

"Hey," She smiles bravely, quickly brushing aside her tears. It's nothing more than a gut reflex; she knows that I've seen her. Moving to stand next to her, I think of my next words, carefully weighing them against Kensi's potential reactions.

"We're leaving soon. Hetty just wants me to change; apparently there's an outfit that says s_ports fanatic_." I grin, my words light and easy. She sighs, relieved that I'm not pushing her.

"We should get one for Sam," She suggests lightly, her eyes on the fading sun.

"Maybe. Not sure pink is his best color, though." My joke gives me the desired reaction; she turns around, eyes wide.

"_Pink_?" She gasps, horrified. Catching sight of my growing grin, her shoulders drop. "Real funny, G." She rolls her eyes. After a moment though, she moves into my arms.

"Thank you," She murmurs; I've succeeded in taking her mind off things, however briefly. And really, that's all I need. That, and the small smile playing on her lips. Now I can go and do whatever stupid thing it is I need to do, knowing that Kensi will be waiting for me; confident in me.

"Thank _you_."

* * *

><p>"So, this is it." Sam announces at 8.47 p.m.; we've been staked-out for close to an hour now. Burns has just pulled up.<p>

"Going in," I tell them, unbuckling my seatbelt, double-checking to make sure that I have all the bugs Eric had provided me with earlier. As I move to get out of the car, a small hand grips mine; I twist around to meet Kensi's eyes. Sam sticks his head out of the open window; his subtle way of giving us some privacy.

"You're gonna be okay," She stresses; I'm not sure if she meant to, but her words reassure me more than anything.

"I'm gonna be okay," I smile, returning the favor. She smiles bravely, letting go of my hand after I give her a light squeeze. I'm tempted to kiss her; as I always did back then. From the way her eyes linger on mine, I can tell that she's contemplating the same thing.

_Don't be ridiculous_, I tell myself. _You'll see her later; do you want to complicate things?_ The answer is yes, yes I do want to complicate things; I want Kensi to know that I want her back. But the agent in me wins out, and just like that, I'm on the streets, walking up to the dimly-lit sports shop.

I don't turn back to catch Kensi's worried gaze.

Approaching the glass doors, I note that Burns has forgotten to flip the _welcome _sign so that it says _we're closed_; this will make everything that much simpler.

"Hell-o!" I call out, shifting my voice ever-so-slightly. In my left thumb, a small bug remains hidden from sight; I tack it onto the first rack I reach, subtle repositioning it so that the small piece of technology isn't conspicuous.

"Err, hey!" I hear Burns rapidly approaching; this is it: he either recognizes me or he doesn't. The entire op hinges on this. Suddenly, he is standing in front of me; his motions are too abrupt – I can't tell whether he has recognized me. "We're, uhh, we're closed."

"Sign didn't say so," I point out the doors. "'Sides, I just need a few things. Won't take five minutes." I promise; five minutes are all I have. Eric has pinned down the deal to a specific time: 9.

"Err…" Burns seems to be all keyed-up; this isn't someone familiar – he always carried himself very confidently in the footage.

"C'mon, help a guy out." I convince him.

"Yeah, sure," He decides. "Just five minutes, though; I need to close shop."

"Thanks, man." I reach out enthusiastically to clap him on the shoulder. "So, what's the rush? Hot date?" I smirk as he hovers uncomfortably.

"Umm, something like that." He mumbles vaguely. "So, what are you looking for?" His words are hurried; I've got four minutes left. I make split-second decision to be here when Pike comes in; Kensi will be furious with me.

"Oh, odd ends, ya' know?" I let him lead me around, showing me a couple of things that I express interest in. While he is otherwise preoccupied, I continue placing bugs all over.

Minutes pass; Pike will be here soon. I look over to Burns; all previous signs of nervousness are gone. As the seconds pass, I realize just what exactly is off.

A car rolls up to the front door; Burns has a smirk on his face.

"Hello, Agent Callen."

* * *

><p><em>Days pass, and nothing happens.<em>

_For once in their lives, it's a slow day. Well, the fourth one in a row, actually. There's nothing left to do; in their desperation, they'd finished all of their paperwork on the second day of this dry spell. There are no cold cases left for them to wrap up; no one seems to feel inclined to commit any crimes that would call for them. Yesterday, Sam had even tossed out an errant thought: Pester LAPD into giving them some cases. Callen had dismissed the suggestion immediately as Sam chuckled; they still had a reputation to uphold. But now, after sitting here for hours with no work, the idea is beginning to sound quite tempting._

_Kensi has been typing away on her computer all day now; something about catching up with her e-mails. Callen had shrugged and left her to her own devices; it was nice to know that his wife still had some semblance of a normal life, with friends and relatives. He, on the other hand, has not received a single non-work-related e-mail in the past few years. It doesn't bother him anymore, though; he's simply written it off as one of the many hazards of being an operator._

_Two hours after lunch though, Callen is convinced that he is slowly losing his sanity. He'd happily play along with one of Sam's high-school games, but the man is nowhere to be seen. Eric is upstairs playing with his toys; Nate's doing…well, what Nate usually does. He doesn't even try to guess what Hetty's doing; that old ninja's an unpredictable wild card._

"_I am dying of boredom." He finally declares, hoping to get his wife's attention. Kensi looks up, though only briefly, a sympathetic look on her face._

"_Nah, I don't think so." She reassures him. Callen discreetly rolls his eyes; so much for a supportive wife._

"_No, seriously." He attempts to convince her. Kensi sighs and turns away from the bright screen, ready to put up with whatever it is Callen has come up with._

"_Okay, so what? We can't go around asking people to do something so that we'll have a case." She says sarcastically._

"_You sure we can't?" _

"_Yeah." Her dry answer is enough to reflect the humor in her tone; she apparently finds Callen's desperation entertaining. "So, quick, think of something else."_

"_What, you're all out of e-mails?" He smirks, crossing his arms._

"_Nice ones. All I've got left are a couple spam mails and one from an old aunt, so I'd rather ignore those, thanks." She grins. _

"_What, your old Aunt Marie?"_

"_Apparently, she thinks that we're useless since we don't have any kids yet. Oh, and if we do, she has boxes of old clothes she filched from the neighbors' Goodwill pile."_

"_Another thing to protect our kid from," Callen jokes. "Old clothes from strangers."_

"_Add that to kidnappers, accidents, crazy people we locked up…"_

_The light, teasing mood abruptly turns dark as Kensi brings up their reality. Being hunted down by criminals, it was just part of the job. But then again, the job usually meant having no family. After all, there must have been a reason for all the single agents, unwilling to drag others into the mess they call their lives. Callen and Kensi, for the most part, had been lucky; they didn't drag each other into anything – each had their own set of danger to deal with. But with the talk of children, comes the inevitable fretting and worry._

"_And then there's all the usual danger, the ones which keep other parents occupied. Only we would have to worry about that and everything else, and eventually something could slip through, since we'd be stretching ourselves thin, trying to keep a baby safe." She goes on, her lips trembling as she fights back tears; maybe she just isn't cut out for motherhood. Maybe neither of them should have any kids, because it seems so selfish, to knowingly bring a child into this kind of danger._

"_Hey, hey," He murmurs soothingly, walking closer to hold her. "It's okay. Nothing will slip past us. And even if anything does, there's still Sam, and Hetty, and everyone else. Any kid of ours will be safe, Kenz. I promise."_

_Her ragged breathing slowly returns to a normal pattern as she mumbles into his chest, her words muffled._

"_Hmm?" Callen hums, prodding her. It works; she pulls away to face him, her eyes dry, a small smile tugging on her lips._

"_Promise?" She repeats her request. He smiles._

"_I promise. As long as we're together, nothing will happen to any of us, Kensi. Just stick with me, okay?"_

"_As long as we're together." She nods. Callen's right; nothing matters as long as he's with her, and she's with him. Because then they can face anything._

_Together._

* * *

><p><em>This is not what Kensi imagined.<em>

_She envisioned herself, when the time came, flushed with joy and a knowing smile. She would somehow find some time without Callen, discreetly, of course. Maybe she would leave work earlier, pleading a headache, or an upset stomach to reassure him. On the way home, she would stop by a drug store, the one she passes by every morning and evening. She would walk in, and head purposefully for the right aisle, not bothering to conceal her purchase. When the woman at the counter smiled and made small talk, she would be polite and receive the woman's uttered words, wishing her luck._

_Now, though, she finds herself roaming the aisles, keeping up an internal debate. She can't be…but then again, she might be. It's entirely possible. 20 minutes of this convinces her to just stop thinking and blindly grab for three different boxes, all assuring buyers of their accuracy._

_During the drive home, she prays like crazy that he isn't back yet; that his curiosity hadn't led him to come home and check on her. Pulling up to the driveway, she stuffs the small plastic bag into her handbag; she won't take any chances with this._

_His car isn't here, but that doesn't really mean anything. Coming in through the kitchen, she calls out several times. Pleased with the apparent lack of any response, she pads up the stairs, into their bedroom. Leaving her bag on the bed, she pulls out her purchases and marches purposefully into the bathroom, trying to keep her mind off what she's doing. She doesn't sit around to wait when she's done; she keeps her mind busy, straightening out sheets and clothes, tidying up things. When her time is up, she sits down on the bed, too scared – yes, she is scared – to face her future._

_The circumstances are all wrong; the timing is terribly off. He'd said that they could go through anything together, but the problem now is that they aren't. Together, that is. Yes, they're still talking to each other, and yes, they're still living together. But she isn't sure that this is how things will be in a month, or even a week. They're both hot-tempered; any rushed words, a snapped sentence, and that's it. That's all it takes to get them started, and they go on, and on, circling around the same subjects over and over. _

_It hasn't been an easy ride for them, and honestly, she doesn't want to give up; not after putting in so much effort, and time, and emotions. She's in too deep; the end of this wouldn't kill her, not physically, but she would never be the same, that much she is sure of. _

_But lately she's found herself wondering. Maybe, at some point, it's better to just walk out. At what point exactly does it get to be enough? At what stage of their fight does she stop and say, enough is enough? At what point does she give up?_

_No; Kensi Blye never gives up. It is just simply _not done_, and unheard of. This wouldn't be giving up; this would be cutting her losses and sparing them both more pain. But walking away…it's only a viable option if only the two of them are involved. If there's a third person, a small, innocent, harmless person growing inside her…she wouldn't be able to walk away, no matter what. _

_Because she wouldn't do that to him; take away his one shot at a family. And she wouldn't be able to do that to herself, either. And not to the clueless child. And this is exactly why this cannot happen to her, not now, not with things are screwed up as they are. _

_That's enough; things happen. If it's negative, then she will move on. If it's positive, she'll... figure something out. With this decision, she walks into the bathroom and picks up all three of the tests, slowly reading them._

_It's not a bad thing; she's relieved, yet she doesn't smile. She can't smile. Not when a small part of her had yearned so badly for this; still wants this so much. She isn't going to break down and cry, but she won't smile, either. _

_Because somehow, Kensi had wanted this so desperately; a child of her own, with Callen. But this is how it is; she will move on. And she won't tell Callen anything, either; she carefully replaces each of the tests into their boxes, shoves them into the trash. Later, she will take out the trash before he comes home; her husband will know nothing of this. And she won't say anything, because there is nothing to say._

_She's not pregnant._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kensi's P.O.V<strong>_

Oh _fuck_.

My body freezes the moment Burns greets Callen by his real name; I can't move. Sam springs into motion. He barks an order to Eric; pulls out his gun. I'm glad that his head is capable of functioning, since mine has apparently decided to go into hibernation. Following his lead, I prepare myself and place a hand on the door, ready to get out.

"No, Kensi." Sam tells me softly, inclining his head towards the doors, the doors through which NCIS's most wanted just stepped in; the doors which lead to my _husband_, who, God damn it, just placed himself in a whole shit load of danger. Somewhere inside my mind, I realize that I'm still capable of anger; that's good, or at least I tell myself so. I'm hoping the adrenaline will be able to drive me, since I'm otherwise crippled.

"What are you waiting for?" I hiss roughly, partly in disbelief. And yet, another part of my mind recognizes that I should listen to Sam, because God knows that with Callen purposely placing himself in a room with Pike, and my suddenly-numb brain, Sam's the only one capable of rationality right now. Sadly, within the time it takes for me to reason with myself, Sam's already in motion, getting out of the car.

"That!" He answers me. Horrified, I register the sound of gunshots ringing. As we approach, the two men standing guard in front of the doors look up, ready to attack. Sam gets to them before they can shoot; their bodies slump to the ground.

As far as Eric can tell, there are only two ways to enter this place: the front door and the one in the back, in an alley. Behind the shop, there's a store room; Sam and Callen theorized that the deal would go down there. As we charge in - LAPD back-up hot on our heels, thanks to Eric - I realize that the guys were right: the front is empty. Heading behind the counter, I find a door.

"This way," I tell Sam, letting him go in front of me. He opens the door, motioning for all of us to proceed, silently. My breath is heavy and ragged; it pounds in my ears. Charging down the narrow corridor, we finally reach another door which opens up, presumably, to the store room. There's a narrow gap; my heart unclenches, letting go of the dread, as I spot Callen, standing with his gun raised, _alive_.

Behind the door, I can hear more voices; apparently, Pike had more of his men charge in through the back door. My eyes find Sam's as our back-up piles up behind us; he nods, holding up his fingers. I draw my gun, counting silently. _One…two…_

_Three!_ Sam pushes the door open as wide as it will go; the others freeze momentarily, stunned by his huge build. This gives us the necessary pause; by the time they're aiming, we've put bullets through most of them. From the corner of my eyes, I spot Callen slowly closing in on Pike, Sam right next to him; Burns is nowhere to be seen. Clearing my head of the distractions, I focus on the black-garbed men, trying to knock out most of them and do as little physical damage as possible; they're more useful to us alive rather than dead.

The LAPD guys quickly cuff up as many men as they can; I spy a guy coming up from behind me, his image reflected on the large, steel surface in front of me. Waiting until the very last moment, I step away and emerge behind him, using as much force as I can muster to smash him into the metal, knocking him out.

Satisfied with my work as his body slumps down, I step away and look around, assessing the situation. LAPD are everywhere; some of them are even leading men away, or rather, _dragging _them out. A few others are dealing with Pike's remaining guys. I see Sam taking care of two guys who seem positively small next to him and look away, unconcerned; Sam can handle himself.

Still searching, I look around the whole space. When I don't find the one I'm looking for, I start moving, still looking. One of the few standing guys spots me and tries to take me out, but I shot him in his right leg before he can get close; distracted, I choose the easiest way to dispose of any threats. By the time I make my way to Sam, who's got two limp bodies at his feet, my mind has registered something I've been trying to avoid.

It takes Sam a few moments to reach my line of thought; when he does, he looks at me, eyes wide, nostrils flared.

He doesn't need to voice out his observation; we stand, in a protective stance, having figured out the inevitable, horrible truth. My blood runs cold as I realize something else.

Callen's not here.

And neither is Pike.

A short distance away, a gunshot echoes.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that's another chapter down; two more and an epilogue to go! Yes, we're wrapping up soon. For more information, hit up my website, where I've posted the dates for the remaining updates. <strong>

**And if you'd like to contact me, you can always review, PM me, e-mail me or tweet me. Thanks for the reviews, guys! Hope you hang around to watch this finish.**

**P.S, vote for Lauren Alaina! (Sorry – I couldn't resist!)**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**May 2011.**_


	8. Chapter 7

**Leftover Love**

**Chapter Seven : Ghost**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kensi's P.O.V<strong>_

I don't ride along.

As the ambulances take away first Pike, then Callen, I stand in the street and wait for the vehicles to turn the corner. Once they're out of my sight, I rejoin Sam inside, where everyone's going through everything. A few of our own have retrieved the weapons – property of the Navy – and are on their way back to the office. LAPD has all of the guys – including Burns – in custody. All that's left for the two of us to do is head out to the back alley; Hetty has been informed, and she wants me to process the scene. In any other situation, this would've taken hours, in which case I would have protested. But as it is, we only heard three rounds. Two by Pike; the last was fired from Callen's gun.

"How many did you find?"

Stepping into the badly-lit alley, I approach Sam, who's crouched down in front of a small pool of blood; I turn away.

"Two." He tells me, standing up. "Pike missed on one count; the way G told it, it should be somewhere there." He points out an old brick wall, next to a rusted door. I step closer, inspecting it. Running my hands across the surface, I search for an anomaly. My legs move in accordance with my hands, until, finally, my fingers run across a small, protruding piece of metal.

"Got it," I huff, picking out the bullet with a tool.

"It's a 22." I observe, dropping the offensive piece into an evidence bag.

"Matches Pike's." Sam informs me, holding out an evidence bag of his own. I can't be sure – the human eye isn't 100% accurate – but the two bullets share enough similarities to have been fired from the same weapon.

"So Pike opens fire." I start, walking myself through the scene. I start out at the door. "Callen doesn't want to shoot; the Director wants this guy."

"He gets out of the way. Pike holds up the gun again; wants to go in for another try. G pushes him down, going for the gun." Sam pitches in, seeing things the way I do.

"Pike starts resisting; somehow lands in a few blows."

"G got a few good hits, too."

We stop at the small blood stain; I tell myself it could have been much worse. "Pike gets out of the way; gets his hands on the gun, fires another round."

"Goes through and through G's shoulder, lands in that corner." Sam walks me to a corner, the small hole solidifying our theory. Once again, I look down at the bullets.

"Pike's about to run; he's got a car waiting at the end of this alley."

"G gets his gun, puts one in Pike's leg." Another evidence bag; this one holds the standard-issue NCIS bullet.

"And then we get in here." I conclude.

"I go for Pike; G tells you about the car. You get the driver. End of story."

"End of story." I echo. Such a simple crime scene; such a big complication for us. I keep telling myself: it could have been worse. And really, I believe that. Truly, I'm not even _that _upset.

I'm just worried. And concerned. And pissed off; Callen _knew _better than to have done what he did. We could have gone in together; the three of us would have been able to settle this with no casualties.

Shaking off my thoughts, I head inside. "Hetty has Burns at the boathouse. We'll need to get these to Eric first; Nate's waiting."

I try to distract myself by sorting out our priorities, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm still anxious to get to the hospital; to rant at Callen, assuming he's okay. I'd yell and he'd smirk; _I'm perfectly fine_. Then I'd glare and he'd pull me in, comforting me; somehow the one who got shot would end up reassuring the one who's perfectly fine. Eventually, I would give in and share how worried I was when we lost all contact – for a split second – before storming in. How my heart had pounded when I had realized he was nowhere to be found; only to have this realization accompanied by gunshots ringing out. He'd get up, just to show me that, _really, he's fine_, keeping a wince off his face.

And then, a few months from now, we'd go through this all over again.

I'm in the lead; Sam's a few steps behind as I push open the glass doors, stepping out into the cool air of the night. Sam's car is exactly where we left it; a few feet away. As we get in, he starts the car and pulls into the main road. When he takes a right instead of a left turn, I start to correct him.

"Sam, make a turn; you missed the-"

"_I_-" He starts, cutting me off. "-am going to drop these off to Eric and pick Nate up. But first, you're going to the hospital."

I'm not sure how I managed to do this after going through such a day, but before I know it, the corners of my lips have curled up into a brilliant smile.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p><em>It just happens, one day.<em>

_No, actually, that isn't right. This is something that has been building; growing, for years now. She has always been aware of this; people like G Callen don't get through life without gaining some issues. But this…this is too much._

_It starts on the fifth day of that dreaded, empty week. Everyone has been going through the motions aimlessly; the city of Los Angeles has never been this safe for those involved in the Navy. Not a case file is in sight; Hetty has run out of paperwork to assign._

_They take the liberty of having a three-hour lunch break, driving to the other side of town to try out a new place. When the three of them get back, Sam complains, good-naturedly, about the sad state his wallet is in. Hetty appears, out of nowhere, advising him to take better care of her wardrobe when he's undercover, as the ruined shirts he's been paying for are of considerable value. Their leader then calls for Callen, informing him that Eric has been searching for him._

_Curious, Callen, shadowed by Sam and Kensi, takes the stairs two at a time, reaching Eric in a matter of minutes. Before he can get any words out, all three of them have taken in the information displayed on the screen; it's Callen's file, yet again. And this time, there's something new._

_Kensi is the first to speak up, addressing the young tech. She asks, casually, about the new address. Eric tells them, not so casually, that this is the address of Callen's home. The agent in question corrects him; foster home._

_But no, this is his _home_, the one he grew up in with Amy, and most probably, their parents. The shock sinks in slowly; Kensi stands next to her husband, ready to support him. They stand, all of them, in silence. For once, even Hetty seems clueless._

_Days pass and nothing changes, until finally, one day, Callen wakes up and tells her that he's going to check out the place. She agrees easily; she had been waiting for him to voice up this request._

_But a few more spoken words have her speechless. When he says that he's going, he means he is going. Alone._

_And maybe, just maybe, this really is something he needs to do alone, for himself. So she puts on an act and pretends to be okay with this._

_And what hurts the most is that he does not rush to reassure her, to spare her feelings. He does not promise her that this isn't a matter of trust, because he does trust her, explicitly. _

_What hurts the most is that the one person in the world who knows her better than anyone else, does not even realize that she's acting; that inside, all her previous insecurities and worries and issues have her hurting._

_But then he's back just two days later and she puts this behind her, because nothing has changed. Or at least, not visibly. But slowly, she notes how often she catches him, staring blankly, his thoughts far, far away. She notices how he is short-tempered and anxious and never really _all there_._

_Days pass and then suddenly, he takes off again. It's not without warning; he had informed her, quite calmly, of his trip the night before. But she does not know how long he will be gone, and where he will be, and all of this worries her even more._

_Once again, his return convinces her to ignore all of this. And so they go back to their lives, even though he's a little bit more cold, more distant, more hostile; even though they're not like they used to be. But they love each other, and she knows that, and so she's determined not to let this get the best of them._

_But then he's gone again._

_And again._

_And suddenly, she spends more days without him than she does _with _him. _

_When he comes back, it's always in the middle of the night; he climbs into bed and just holds her, letting the silence envelope them. No words are said; he's tired and she's tired, and really, what is there to say? _Where were you? What happened? I missed you.

_Months pass, but this thing – this constant disappearance – does not. And slowly, Kensi loses hope. And patience, which has never been her strongest suit to begin with, slowly seeps out of her very being._

_So one night, one horrible, cold, dark night, he climbs into bed and she sits up, turning on the light. She turns to him and confronts him, speaking all the words she's kept inside. He does not want to give her answers; she does not want to give up. Questions are hurled like accusations and cold silence greets her, until finally, he snaps._

_And then he watches as she walks out into the thunderstorm, leaving, in her wake, a cold chill that has nothing to do with the howling winds outside._

* * *

><p><em>She has lost count of their fights; of the many nights she would storm out, only to come back days later. The first night – the first time she had walked away – it had hurt the most. Mostly because, no matter how much he had wanted to, he had not gone after her. And though the next time had been the exact same thing, it had not stung as much as the first time she'd felt unwanted.<em>

_So tonight, when the mattress slowly gives way under his weight, she does not move; she does not open her eyes. Because she is tired, exhausted, really, and it has been a long day, a long week, a long month. She keeps her thoughts to herself and lets him wrap his arms around her, too damn tired to even consider walking away._

_His breathing slows, but never evens out; she doesn't even try to regulate her own. The heat of his probing gaze proves futile; her own remain closed, though not peacefully. She does not want to meet his eyes; does not want to see the questions in them, because after all these trips, she has come to learn that he does, in fact, care about her feelings._

_Eventually, jet-lagged and just plain tired, his eyes close and he drifts away in a deep, dreamless slumber. When she feels the weight focused on her slack – the force of it lightened – she cautiously opens her eyes and turns around to observe him._

_It's been a while; he was gone for two weeks, this time. One of the many questions in her mind: How much does Hetty know?_

_It must be a considerable amount of information; the woman hasn't even questioned Callen's often disappearances and the fact that their team is now made up of two agents, and not three. Technically, officially, he's still their senior agent, but when it comes to a case, an op, Kensi and Sam are, for all intents and purposes, on their own._

_His resolve isn't quite as strong as hers; his eyes snap open just minutes into her inspection and meet her own. For a split-second, he considers going back to sleep; it would be simpler, easier, to just skip this. Instead, he waits for her to fill up the silence._

"_I'm not even going to ask anything, this time," She says evenly, calmly; it's scary to watch how eerily composed she is. "Because I know you won't tell me anything. Because I could scream, and demand, and in the end one of us will walk away and I won't get anything."_

_He _wants _her to scream; this acceptance is worse – all the fight has gone out of her; she's giving up. And Kensi Blye does _not _give up; he won't let her. But he can't tell her anything, mainly because there is nothing to tell; just like how there is nothing to find. It's just him, and this inexplicable need to find something, someone, who doesn't want to be found._

"_Kenz," He calls to her because he has nothing else to say; because he wants, just this once, to talk about something else. "I'm sorry."_

_These words are not nearly enough, but she wants them to be, so she nods and curls into him, trying to get through this with as little pain involved as possible._

"_You can't keep doing this to me." It's nothing more than a string of words; there is no emotion, no pleading. His actions are his own; Kensi knows that and has always known that. But for a while there, she'd fooled herself into believing that her requests, her wants, could hold some sort of influence over him._

"_I don't want to." Of course not; he would never willingly hurt her. But this is inevitable; this is something that needs to be done, and so, really, he's not hurting her on purpose. And once this is all over, they'll go back to normal. If there's a 'them' left._

"_Take me with you, next time." Her suggestion lacks any of her usual persuasiveness, her enthusiasm. When Kensi wants something, she gets it. Not because you'd give her anything, but because she would ask in _that _tone, plead with _those _eyes and make you see things _her _way. But this…this is merely a sentence, not Kensi's words._

"_You know I can't." He doesn't know who is in more pain: Kensi, or himself. He wants to; he wants to give her everything she wants, do anything she asks him to, make her happy. But what he's been doing…it's something he never wants to see Kensi doing. The daily danger she puts herself in is enough; he will not be responsible for another target sign on her head; her life._

"_Why?"_

_He wants to smile; this is a demand. It's angry and frustrated and petulant, and it's a demand from Kensi who is now rigid in his arms. He leans down, letting his lips curve against her shoulder, letting her feel his smile._

"_Because."_

_He breathes this into her neck, and it's infused with a silent request: _you know why; don't ask me again, please. _She nods; she does know. But she doesn't want to understand; she doesn't want this separation to be rationalized. She wants to be righteously indignant, at an unfathomable decision, and she doesn't want to see any logic in this._

"_You know I love you." Yet another piece of logic. Yes, she knows. And she knows this is why things have to be the way they are. But she doesn't want to know, God damn it._

_She doesn't say anything anymore, and neither does he. She doesn't move from her spot in his arms, and he holds her close. She doesn't close her eyes, and his remain wide open, too._

_It's so easy, now, to forget all of her pain, her anxiousness, everything she's been feeling without him. Because here, with him next to her, safe and here and alive – it's all she needs. _

_But then there are those days; those long days and weeks without him, wondering if he's okay, if he's thinking of her, if he's still _here_. And those days drive her crazy. _

_Because all those long days which bleed into weeks, spent all alone, have her convinced of one thing._

_She's waiting…for a ghost._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Callen's P.O.V<strong>_

When my room darkens, I know immediately, even instinctively, who's standing in the doorway, blocking out the light. I sigh and wait for her to start screaming; I know it's to be expected.

So when she chokes on a sob and flies into the room, carefully hovering over me, I'm thrown off course. I have no idea what's going on.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," She warns, her words floating in between that state of _almost _crying.

"No promises," I grin, trying to make light of the situation.

"Damn it, Callen. If you ever intentionally put yourself in danger, I'll shoot you myself; I'll do it, you know I can."

"You'd have to shoot me the moment Hetty lets me back on the job, I guess. Never know when a dead body might get me. Or a suspect."

Kensi has a pretty impressive glare; have I ever mentioned that? And I'm pretty sure that it works on most people, grown men included. Except I can't really think of her as a threat to myself, having been through all that we have; knowing, first-hand, how her eyes welled up when I asked her to marry me, baggage and issues be damned.

"Not funny," She says flatly, her hands folded across her chest.

"Damn, I was really trying."

She sighs, giving in, and pulls a chair closer to my bed to sink into. Resting her head on the empty space next to my arm, she closes her eyes for a couple of seconds, resting. I run my hand through her hair, soothing her.

"I'm sorry." I tell her, and I really am; sorry that I'd done this to such a strong person; that I would always be her weakness.

"Me, too." She sighs, and I know she's apologizing for something else entirely. Lifting her head up, she smiles. "Sam let me off; Hetty has them working."

"I know," I smirk. "You're getting special treatment."

"Only because you landed yourself in the hospital. Speaking of which, what do the good doctors say?" She asks, having just thought of this.

"The wound's fine, it's nothing; Pike got in a couple of hits and somehow slammed my head into something, so they're keeping me overnight. All in all, you're allowed to bust me out. Right now." I translate. She smirks.

"That desperate, huh?"

"You have no idea. They've got the worst food, Kenz. I've been in lots of hospitals and crappy places; this one wins." I whisper, my eyes wild. "Take me home."

"Hmm, you're kinda cute." She muses, observing me. "But I generally don't take patients back home. Never know what crazy person you might end up with," She shrugs. "Especially those with head problems."

Her words are easy, teasing, but her eyes run through me, worried. "Are you _sure _you're fine?" She asks me, dead serious. I take her hand and hold it.

"I'm alright, Kenz. See?" I try to sit up; damn, bad move. She pushes me down before I'm upright.

"Don't be stupid, G." She tells me. "Just get some rest."

"You need it more than I do." Moving aside, I make space for her, patting the empty space. She bites on her bottom lip.

"I really shouldn't." Nevertheless, she sneaks a quick glance outside before climbing in, settling next to my good shoulder. Sighing contentedly, she moves to face me.

"I was really worried, Callen." She admits. "After Burns made you, the whole feed went off for a minute. And then we heard gunshots before Eric could get it back on. And when we got in you weren't even there."

"I know," I tell her gently, hoping to comfort her. "I'm sorry. But look, I'm okay, and you're okay, and everything's settled."

"And Sam's okay, too. Thanks for asking." She tells me sarcastically.

"Yeah, that one can take care of himself. It's this crazy lady I'm worried about." I smirk, teasing her.

"I don't think Hetty will appreciate you calling her that." She plays along.

"I don't think I've ever let _Hetty _climb into bed with me." I blanch at the mental image; next to me, I feel Kensi shudder.

"Ugh, thanks for the visual."

"You're welcome." I reply promptly, smiling. We let things settle for a while, just resting in silence. I feel her breathing slow, though she's not sleeping; not yet.

"Hey, Kenz?"

"Hmm?"

"How are _you _feeling?"

She hesitates on this, closing her eyes. "I…I'm fine, I think." She finally answers, truthfully.

"Okay."

I'm fighting sleep now; I'd blame it on the morphine, but the fact is that I haven't slept for a solid 48 hours, at the very least. I know Kensi's about to drift off, too. In fact, her voice surprises me.

"Hey, G?" She slurs, her voice think with sleep.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

><p><strong>Slow chapter? Weird chapter? Half-normal, half-slow chapter? I dunno.<strong>

**Wow, only one more chapter to go, guys. And sure, we've got the epilogue after…but still. Another little baby of mine is all grown up and ready to leave. (sigh) It goes so fast...**

**So, as always, you can review, PM me, e-mail me, tweet me or hit up my homepage. And I really, really appreciate all the reviews, people. Seriously, **_**thank you**_**!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**May 2011.**_


	9. Chapter 8

**Leftover Love**

**Chapter Eight : Home**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kensi's P.O.V<strong>_

It's been a week, and the director has come and gone, taking with him the initial high we'd experienced after successfully bringing in a high-profile criminal.

We've all completed our work; no need to prolong this case. Nate and Eric left a while ago; Sam's already gathering his things.

"You guys not done yet?" He asks absent-mindedly, searching for something. I watch as he rummages through the mass of folders on his desk, triumphantly holding up his cell; I purposely keep my eyes from wandering to the agent next to me.

"I'll be gone soon." I tell Sam, pointing out the pile of forms. "Hetty wants me to go through most of this."

"Lucky you," Sam smirks, heading out. "'Night, Kensi, G. See you guys next week." With a nod in Callen's direction, he's gone.

Abruptly, I realize that this is the first time we've been alone together since that day in the hospital. It isn't as if I've been avoiding him…or maybe I have. Callen's been back for all of two days now, because after all, he's been through much worse, and really, this is nothing; Hetty's just keeping him chained to the desk until the next week.

I sneak a glance at the time; it's almost past midnight. Hetty's still somewhere upstairs; beside me, Callen is signing off on some papers.

"It's getting late," I speak up, the first conversation I've initiated this week. I turn to face him as he looks up from his work.

"Yeah, didn't realize that," He furrows his brows, as if he hadn't noticed the hours passing by. "You should probably get back, Kenz." He suggests.

"Look who's speaking," I roll my eyes. "We all know the only reason you're out of the hospital is because Hetty got you out. And only after she made you promise to stay out of the field. _You _need more rest than I do, G."

"You know that's not going to happen, Kensi."

Yes, I know; all too well, in fact. Callen doesn't sleep well – but then again, none of us do. But I remember, with great clarity, how I'd wake up in the middle of the night to find him staring at the ceiling, or in the kitchen, or sometimes, when he got really desperate, watching TV. I remember how I'd get up and pad around, barefoot, looking for him, unsure of what I would find.

Sometimes, he'd wave it off with impressive casualty, claiming that a car speeding by had startled him, and he then found himself unable to sleep. Sometimes, I'd just stand next to him and we'd both stay in silence until the sun came up, because there were no words for what was going on in his mind, or mine. And then there were the times he'd sit me down and tell me about an old friend, or a foster home which stood out from that long list of his.

And then, there were the times that I'd just leave him alone, because he needed space and so did I.

"Still, Hetty wouldn't be happy to know that you spent the night here again. You'd think you're attached to that couch or something." I say lightly, jokingly; changing the subject.

"Not the couch; just some good memories," He smirks; I work hard to keep the blood from flooding to my cheeks, forming a visible blush. He chuckles.

"Go home, Kenz; get some sleep. All of this will be gone by next week."

He means the case, but somehow, I know that other things will be gone, too. This easy conversation, this closeness; would we go back to being normal once we'd closed this case?

The thought scares me; I don't _want _to go back to us being normal. I want him to always be here for me, knowing, without my speaking up, that I needed comforting. I want to know that I can talk to him, anytime, and not just during working hours. I want us to go back to how we used to be; before this case, before the last few months; before everything fell apart.

I want to go back _home_.

I fight to keep my sudden _want _out of my voice. "I'm going; you should finish up soon, G. Just go home." _And take me with you._

"I'll try." No promises are made; he'll probably be here until Hetty kicks him out. I pack up my things and purposely leave all work-related items behind; for once, I'm going to enjoy this weekend alone, with no paperwork or expense forms.

"Good night, G." I walk closer to him, run my hand over his good shoulder; he moves his own hand up to grip mine.

"'Night, Kenz." When he lets go, I walk away and force myself not to look back. Walking out, I get into the car and absent-mindedly slot the key into the ignition; start up the car. I let my subconscious drive me home, my mind mulling over other thoughts.

When I come to a stop at the red light, I spot, out of the blue, the U-turn that leads back to the office. It's a sudden decision; I don't want to go back to my old place, where I'll be alone and mope around for the weekend, coming back to work on Monday. I don't want to repeat the pattern of work-work-work.

I want to go to work knowing that at the end of the day, I'll have a place and a person to go back to; to go back _with_. I want to spend my weekends doing things, not just chores that I force myself to do. I want everything to go back to the way it was, back when I didn't have to keep my mind preoccupied just because certain thoughts were forbidden.

The light turns green and a few cars in front of me start moving; they take the road that would bring them back. I take the turn; I know now where I'm going.

I want to go home.

* * *

><p><em>Four days after the first time she walked out, Kensi swallows her pride and goes home.<em>

_It comes out of nowhere, this urge to just drop everything and go back. They don't have much to do at work, and she hasn't been feeling well anyway, so she gets up and childishly announces, to no one in particular, because she's _still _not talking to him, that she's calling it a day._

_As she joins the traffic, she has every intention of going back to her apartment, which is where she's been staying these past few days. She'll call for take-out and watch something random on TV, or maybe read a book. Her days without Callen seem to be quite empty; she's already disappointed in herself for letting him take up that much of her life, because now that the possibility of him leaving or her walking out is real, she's starting to realize just how bad the fall-out might be._

_She drives for the next few minutes, not having to pay much attention to the once-familiar route. At the junction, though, she takes the wrong turn and chooses, instead, to drive aimlessly, taking in the teenagers sneaking out, the college students having fun…normal people doing normal things. _

_She hasn't felt normal in the longest time, but then again, normal is overrated, or so she believes. It's the only way for her to get through her seriously abnormal days; she just isn't cut-out to be normal. And for years, she believed that. Until she went on a second date, and then a third, and then before long, went into a full-blown, grown-up relationship._

_And for a while there, she was truly normal. She slept in and messed around; played hooky and called in sick. And even Hetty didn't mind, because they were just _that _happy._

_And now…_

_And now she's back to square one, in her old place, doing the same old things…which is something she absolutely doesn't want to do. And so she turns around and heads _home_, the one place she really wants to be. Because she doesn't want to get take-out and watch random shows; she wants to joke around with Callen and laugh and go to bed knowing that tomorrow will be the same. _

_She parks her car where he is sure to see it; she makes her presence known. Before he comes back, she's started dinner, though he's the better cook, and her things are everywhere, something he won't be able to miss. _

_She heads straight for their room and unhesitatingly, pulls out an old shirt of his. She has just enough time to take a shower; he won't be back for the next half an hour. When she comes out, dripping wet, she walks around the place, leaving behind a trail. Eventually, she dries herself and pulls on his shirt, heading back into the kitchen to wait._

_A million scenarios wait to greet her; maybe he'll ignore her, though not on purpose. Maybe he won't even notice that she's back; or that she was gone in the first place. Maybe he'll start with a snarky remark and she'll glare, and by the end of the night she'll be gone again._

_Maybe, maybe, maybe._

_When it's almost 8, which is when he usually comes home on a slow day, she turns out the TV and sits herself down, sprawling comfortably across the couch. Her damp hair leaves a distinct mark and for once, she doesn't care._

_She listens and waits for the sound of him pulling up, if only to have some sort of upper-hand. Finally, she hears the gravel crunch and settles in to wait, knowing that he's seen her car parked next to his spot. _

_The TV is on, and someone is blabbering about something, but she cannot for the life of her figure out the words that are blaring out. She keeps her eyes trained on the movements, to imply a certain amount of focus; the front door opens._

_She fights the urge to sit up or go rigid; maintains her position. Her eyes flicker to the door of the living room for the briefest second, but she immediately goes back to the TV._

_His footfalls are light; if she isn't used to them, she probably would have missed them. Slowly, he approaches the living room. When he leans against the door, she slowly, and naturally, moves her eyes to his, preparing herself for a number of emotions. _

_His hands are loosely crossed; there isn't the slightest bit of confrontation present in his stance. His lips are pulled up in a grin; his eyes are clear and bright._

_When he speaks, everything falls into place, and for the rest of the night, Kensi can't figure out why she was so nervous in the first place._

"_Honey, I'm home."_

* * *

><p><em>The sun is out; there's not a cloud in sight. <em>

_She sits, her shoulders slumped and all the fight drained from her, waiting for him to walk in through the front door. _

_It's been months now; the pattern hasn't let up. He comes and goes as he wishes, and there's absolutely nothing she can do, nothing she can say. _

_When he comes in, the sound of the door closing behind him is all that alerts her to his presence; she's been drawn away by her thoughts._

_She can do this the easy way, or she can scream and demand and basically, wake the entire neighborhood up. But she's been screaming for months now; demanding answers every single night. And now, here she is, with nothing at all. _

_There's absolutely no reason for what he's doing to her. _

_So he has issues. Everyone does! But not everyone drops everything to go looking for people who might not even exist. She has tried to be patient and she has tried to be understanding, but no one ever said these were Kensi Blye's strongest virtues. _

_When he comes in and sits down next to her, her body involuntarily melts into his and she knows, at that exact moment, that she won't scream, and she won't demand, and she won't make a scene out of this because no, she is not a drama queen._

"_You're leaving."_

_It's a statement, and there isn't even a bit of doubt in those words, because of course she's leaving; she won't stand for this kind of shit and that is one of the many reasons he loves her, and one of the many reasons it's all ending between them._

_Because he has secrets and she doesn't like those, but he can't tell her because then she'll be in more danger than she already is, and if he doesn't tell her, she'll leave, which he doesn't want, but he can't tell her because then she'll be risking her life with his, no questions asked._

_It's like a freaking riddle and he's just going round and round, in circles and squares and triangles because he can't find a solution. And he knows that if she knew the truth, she would most likely slap him. Because Kensi Blye can take care of herself, and that is a fact, so why the hell is he screwing things up?_

_But she's still young, as much as anyone hates to admit it. She doesn't have half the enemies he does; she hasn't put herself in constant danger just yet. But he has, because what she's doing now – he's been there, done that and barely survived._

_There's a reason he chose to work here; to not exist. _

"_Yeah."_

_It's so simple; he wants to laugh – would've laughed if not for the crazy circumstances. She's leaving, and he knows, and that's the end of it._

_But he's not laughing, because he wants to cry; this can't be the end of it, yet it is and that's that. He's still obsessing over his lost family, and she's reached her limit, and really, neither of them are who they used to be._

_This obsession…it's taking over his life and her life and he wants to stop, he wants to give up. But then there's a rumor, or a tiny bit of information, and maybe, just maybe his family is out there and he's willing to risk everything for that chance because G Callen is just that stupid._

_And she won't stand for it; won't stand for their entire lives being uprooted periodically just because of the smallest hint of a whisper; this isn't what she signed up for, but she doesn't care – she would have gone through the whole thing if he'd only let her._

"_So…I guess I'm going now."_

No, don't; stay, please, I'll tell you everything, I'll take you along, I'll solve this.

_These are the words he can't say, and yet…and yet he almost can't hold them in. He opens his mouth; but really, what is there to say?_

"_Where will you go?"_

_He knows where she'll go; it's the most obvious thing in the world. She'll go back to her apartment, and her old life, and he's supposed to do the same. Except he can't._

"_Back." She shrugs._

_Yes, back; backwards. Forget all that they've achieved, all that they've done; in the end, they're both just going to be a shell of their former selves, unable to go back, yet doomed to remember._

"_Oh."_

_Truly, that is all he can say; she's going back and he's going away, again. Only this time, she won't wait for him._

_They get up; he holds out a hand for her, pulls her up. Together, they walk to the front door, where he stops; this is it, this is where he stops and she goes on, and he doesn't go after her._

_He holds her tight when she reaches for an embrace; he doesn't tell her that he's sorry, and he loves her, because this is a clean break._

"_You'll come back, won't you?"_

_She knows he's leaving, too. And just because she's walking out, that doesn't mean that she won't worry, won't care, won't stay up at night wondering where he is and whether he's alright._

"_I will."_

_It's a simple nod, but a promise in its own. He'll be back, and maybe someday, she will, too. Stepping away, she forces a smile before walking away. He stands there, rooted to the ground, unable to go after her because really, what good would it be? She'd come back and he'd leave her, and next month she would walk out again. _

_He watches as she pulls open the door and gets ready to get in, to leave. He wants to say something, but there are no words for this. And so she speaks up, covering for him when he falls short, just as she always will._

"_Someday, G, this will end." He can't promise her that, but she has all the faith in the world in him, and that is enough, for now._

"_And then, you'll take me home."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Callen's P.O.V<strong>_

Minutes after Kensi leaves, I decide to call it day.

My shoulder is killing me, not that I'll ever let Hetty know, and this whole running-on-zero-sleep isn't the best idea. I've signed off on everything that I need to; the rest, Hetty will just have to deal with on her own.

I'm not looking forward to going back to the big, empty house, but tomorrow's the weekend and Hetty won't be pleased to find me here. Reluctantly, with slow movements, I gather my things. As I'm about to turn off the lights, I _feel _someone entering the room. Not just someone; Kensi.

"Couldn't sleep?"

The grin I'm wearing quickly turns into a frown; she's been crying. She left this place all of 15 minutes ago and I don't recall her looking this down; I haven't seen her like this since I left the hospital. I take a few more steps and move in closer to her; hold out my hands and support her.

"Hey, hey," Two breakdowns in just as many weeks? This is not Kensi; this is not what Kensi _used _to be. I knew, even months ago, that it would have been naïve for me to think that we would ever go back to being…well, not normal, but what we used to be. I would never drop everything to disappear again; she would never go on random dates. But somehow, I'd managed to fool myself into believing that those were the extents of our damages; I'd managed to ignore anything worse.

She's not crying; that much I can tell. She's alarmingly still, actually; I have to check to make sure that she's not asleep. "Kenz, what happened?" I start softly, hoping not to startle her. It's silent for a long while; I'm about to speak up.

"Nothing." It's not a dismissal; it's an answer. "Nothing happened." She repeats these two words over and over, and I'm not exactly sure what she's trying to say and who she's trying to comfort; _nothing bad happened_, or _nothing happened even after this whole case_; _don't worry, nothing happened to me_, or _nothing happened to you, I just need to wrap my mind around this_.

Either way, I drag her over to the couch and sit her down, sitting in silence, waiting for her to elaborate. She's working on her breathing; in and out, in and out. It occurs to me that she might have been through a panic attack, and my heart clenches in alarm at the thought of her, experiencing a meltdown, while on the road. Don't we put ourselves in enough danger while on the job?

"I'm tired," She sighs, and these are her first words apart from the constant repeated murmurs. I let her rest her head on my shoulders and hold her tight, comforting her.

"I know," I say, and yes, I do know. I know that she hasn't slept since that weekend; I know that even her _brain _is tired; that even her heart is overworked. I know that she doesn't want to stay up again, and I know that both of us need to sleep. I know that she doesn't want to go back to the empty apartment just as I don't want to go home alone and face the eerie silence.

It's quiet; I wait for her weight to go slack, for her to drift off. This isn't an ideal position to sleep, but I don't really mind; as long as Kensi sleeps, I'll gratefully take the backache this will cause me in the morning. We speak occasionally, not really keeping up a conversation; we talk mostly about random things until she asks me something.

"G, when did you stop?"

She doesn't need to clarify her question; _when did you stop leaving? _When did I stop disappearing, and why only after she left?

"I don't know," I answer truthfully. "One day I just woke up and I realized that maybe there's nothing to find, and if I'd realized this earlier, maybe I wouldn't have lost so much."

"And you thought that if you went on anyway, you'd lose even more." Her words are simply, thoughtful; but they sum up the inner debate I had experienced in the weeks after her departure. I hadn't lost her for good, back then, and I knew that, but Kensi wouldn't wait for me forever – someday, she'd give up. And that, frankly, scared me shitless. So I stopped; gave up on my missing family to focus on my present family.

"Yeah, I guess." She doesn't reply to this, and so I assume that we're going to drift into silence again until the next random conversation starts. But minutes later, she speaks up.

"Why didn't you come for me?"

_Why didn't you bring me home_? It's getting easier to translate her words; to pick up on the slightest bit of insecurity that has managed to seep into her tone, despite her efforts to conceal her emotion.

"Would you have come back?" I deflect her question with one of my own; actually, that's my answer. I hadn't known, back then, if she would have come home; I wasn't ready to face the possibility of her never coming back. She laughs; it sounds forced.

"Of course I would have, you dumbass."

I straighten up, look her in the eye. I can take the easy way out here; comment on her particular choice of insult. But I can't keep avoiding this anymore; I need to know, once and for all, if Kensi will come home. "And now?"

_And what if I ask you now_? I can see the small light of understanding dawn in her sleepy eyes as she translates my words much like I did hers. There's no doubt or hesitation in them; she comes to a decision immediately. I brace myself for rejection.

She frees herself from my grip and I know; I just _know _that this is it; Kensi will not be coming home, she will not be coming back to me. I instinctively reach out for her, but she's out of my reach, standing over my desk. I know which frame has drawn her attention; it's one of us, in front of the house, beer cans all over. We weren't the only ones there; it was a team thing, and even Hetty had come. But the way we were caught up in each other…no one else seemed to be around. Eric had sneakily pulled out his camera and zoomed in, culminating in Kensi running after him down the beach, eventually getting hold of his camera.

I stand up, unsure of what I do next. All this time, I'd specifically kept myself from thinking of this as a possibility; she would come home one day, and that was the only outcome I was ready to deal with. Now, I'm not sure what to do, what to say; where to go. Definitely not home, knowing she won't come back.

As I stand there, hovering and unsure, she picks up my bad, slings it over her shoulder. I'm puzzled by her actions, but simply brush it off as a helpful gesture; she must've picked up on my small winces throughout the day.

"Come on," She says simply, leading me out to our cars. I'm about to rummage through my pockets for my keys when she hold them up, dangling them in my face. Experience tells me that she must've gotten them before untangling herself from me on the couch. She dumps my things on the passenger seat and comes to stand next to me.

This is it; this is where she says goodnight and I say goodnight, and we don't speak of what has been decided here. This is where she drives off and I drive off, and next week we just go back to pretending; pretending that everything is as it was four years ago, or maybe even five.

When she walks over to her car and holds open the door, I wait; wait for her to start this charade. When she opens her mouth to speak, I go rigid and prepare myself.

And when she jumps into her car just seconds after speaking, I grin to myself.

"Race you home!"

* * *

><p><strong>There, there! It's up! <strong>

**I'm so sorry about the delay, guys. It's just like me to land myself in the hospital the day I'm supposed to post the final chapter. Fingers crossed I'll have the epilogue up soon!**

**So…this is it. I hope you guys like how this ended up, because this is just the natural conclusion to me. I had something different in mind, but then I started writing and I knew, this is where I was heading for – that final sentence. **

**I just didn't feel as if Kensi would make a big production or a huge scene or anything the likes out of going home; but maybe I'm wrong.**

**Either way, it's been a great ride, but Fluff the Plot Bunny's telling me not to get all teary-eyed just yet since we still have an epilogue to go, so all I'm gonna say is…**

**Review! PM me! E-mail! Tweet me! Or hit up my homepage and go through my recent conversation with imaginary rabbits! **_**Ouch**_**! (Fluff doesn't like being called **_**imaginary**_**.) Oh, and if you're a _Vampire Diaries _person, _Baby Sister _has a new chapter up! (Well, it's been up for days now, actually.)**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**May 2011.**_


	10. Epilogue

**Leftover Love**

**Epilogue : More Than Ever**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Three Months Later:<strong>_

When they land, she is jumpy and nervous and on-edge, because she does not know where they are; Callen's calm as always, giving away nothing. She frowns; knowing that she should be able to read him better by now.

They go through the usual mundane tasks; by the time they have their luggage in hand, her curiosity gets the best of her. She's noticed the sign boards, the various welcome wishes spoken in a different language - though thankfully, one that she understands.

"Okay, I really need to know why we are here right now. And don't say surprise." She hastily adds in the second sentence, cutting him off before he can speak.

"You wanted to know what I was doing; this is it."

"You've been going on vacation while I was at home?" She responds sarcastically; he's not giving her much to work with. Smirking, he pulls her out into the sunlight, where a rental car waits for them.

"I've been following rumors; they led me everywhere from here to Russia. Most of them centered here though; quite unusual to be named Callen in these parts, don't you think?"

"Let me get this straight," She gets in, letting him drive without putting up a fight; he probably knows the area better than she does. "You actually found someone?"

"Well," He admits, suddenly looking sheepish. "Not really. But this is my best chance, and this time I want to do it with you." She smiles; he brought her along. Nothing else matters; _he brought her along_. This time, they're here together; she's not alone at home, waiting for him.

Her next words have him grinning, though she's merely stating the truth. After all, the way she sees it, they are intrinsically linked; always have been, since that first day. And so what matters to him, matters to her.

"Alright – let's find our family."

* * *

><p>Day two – they're all settled in and this is it, this is where they start.<p>

Before the sun rises, while it's still dark out, they leave the small motel they're staying in and drive along the streets. She has no idea where they are; Callen's navigating and driving and so she just looks out of the window, admiring the foreign terrain.

The silence they share is not filled or charged; it is neither awkward nor restless. This is them, at their best: together, with no words needed. He knows why she's here, and she knows that he knows and that's all they need for now – the comforting knowledge that they're both here for a reason: each other.

As the seconds grow into minutes, they occasionally bring up light-hearted topics; jokes, and theories, most of which involve Hetty, or Sam; even Eric has a place in their words. Above all, they talk about their months spent apart, and yet together; the little things they'd never thought they would miss.

Finally, all talked out, she goes back to looking out of the window, letting him drive. One of his hands securely grips hers; it's not so much possessive as it is comforting. Eventually, as he slows down, she waits silently, letting him take his time to open up and share whatever bit of information, which, inconsequential as it may seem, would be a bridge, a small offer; an invitation to join him in this small place she finds foreign.

"The last time I was here," Callen speaks up with just the slightest bit of hesitation, initiating conversation. "I heard about a guy, Albert. Word got back to him that I'd been here, asking about my family, and someone said that he recognized the name." His words are not stilted, but his speech is somewhat halting, as if unsure of his decision. She speaks up easily, a reassurance wrapped up in her easy words.

"So we're going to see this Albert guy?" She guesses, turning back to look at him. In all honesty, she doesn't give a damn about meeting 'this Albert guy' or any other guy; all she can focus on is the fact that they're here, together – somehow, it's a little surreal, to discover that after all their fights, after all those nights alone, this is what he's been doing.

"Well, first we'll need to find him. And he'll probably send us to someone else. And that guy would send us to another guy, and- you get where I'm going with this. Eventually, we'll end up in a different country." He observes her carefully; it's not the most thought-out plan, he'll admit that much. And really, if there's any sign of hesitation, any sign at all that she doesn't want to do this, then they'd pack up and head home and he wouldn't ever bring this up. They'd move on with their lives and he wouldn't ever look back, wouldn't leave her; wouldn't resent her. The best part is, they'd still be together and happy.

She shrugs, throwing him a brilliant smile. She'd follow this man to the end of the Earth, much less a little country-hopping.

"Sign me up!"

* * *

><p>That day, they do not find Albert, or anyone else.<p>

There are no answers, no facts, no reason whatsoever to what they have been doing. But somehow, just like that, she understands; she sees, perfectly.

She sees how he can't give up, because with every question mark, comes a tiny spark of hope. With every dead end, comes another door. With every failure, comes that look in his eyes – fierce determination. This is the G Callen she knows; the one she loves. And to ask him to give up...it would be asking him to stop being that G Callen.

And that is something she does not plan on doing, simply because she wouldn't be able to stand herself; living through the rest of her life knowing that she's responsible for this.

As they make their way back to the motel, where they're spending another night before embarking onto another destination, Kensi understands, with great clarity, how Callen could have given up everything they had for everything he never had. And she understands, once again with great clarity, how he could have decided to come back to her and give up everything else.

He loves her, and that is reason enough for everything he has done, which has led them to this outcome, this day. He loves her, and that is why he could never bring her along before this, because she's pretty sure they've made quite a few enemies today and any added threat to her life is cause enough for him to want to keep her out of this.

She loves him, and that is reason enough for why she has come home, come back to him; why she's here with him despite the last few months of loneliness. She loves him, and that is why she's here, risking her life for his peace of mind, for his contentment.

And because of this, she knows that he understands how, come what may, she'll be with him, and they'll hunt down every single informant, exhaust every last lead, before they even think of giving up.

And so they wrap up for the day and wait for the next, where they'll fight some people, hit others and eventually, go home.

And she's okay with that…as long as they eventually go home.

* * *

><p>Late at night, Kensi finds herself wide awake, unable to sleep. Callen, a still form next to her, is staring blankly at the ceiling, as usual. Her breaths are synchronized to his; her head rests on his chest.<p>

She shifts so that she's straddling him, her hair forming a private curtain, blocking out the faint moonlight which escapes through the blinds. All she can see are his eyes, holding her own orbs in a hypnotizing gaze. And as she reads all that she sees in his eyes, she knows the one question she needs to ask; the answer she needs to sleep.

"I can't believe it," She murmurs, her voice low. "After all this shit, everything we've gone through…I'm still so in love with you. How is that even possible?"

She has heard of reconciliations, but never in those stories had it been mentioned how you could live without someone for so long and yet come back to them knowing exactly the meaning of that little glint in their eyes, the reason behind the subtle shift of their shoulders. Never before had someone shared how you could live without someone for so long and yet find that you can't really live without them after all.

She does not sound despaired – merely curious. He smiles gently, moving his hand to caress her face. "Believe it or not, I've still got some – or tons, actually – of leftover love for you." He says lightly. She considers this for a moment, worrying her bottom lip.

Leftover love; it's a new concept to her. You can't live life, can't love someone, without leaving something behind. But can you go back and pick up that something? Can you go back and dust off that something and find it to be not something, but everything you thought you had left? And above all, can you go back and find that something - that leftover bit - to be much stronger than it ever was? Finally, she speaks.

"More than ever?"

What she's asking – it's not possible. After everything they've gone through, the fact that they're still here, together – it's a miracle. It should be a poor echo of their previous selves, not stronger than ever. And yet it is. Because he has never loved her this much, this fiercely.

And so he gives her a promise.

"More than ever."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burnt away… <strong>_

**Falling in love, it's exactly what the words suggest: You're falling, plummeting, but somehow, you're blind to this. You close your eyes, and you enjoy the rush of adrenaline that comes with this, and the sound of air whistling past your ears.**

**And then you crash.**

**Love? Love doesn't include the whole part where you land flat on your face; it's what happens after the fall. Love is when you get up, and dust yourself off, and find that all those emotions? They're still here, inside you; they're the leftovers.**

**So really, when we say true love…what we all mean is leftover love.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Finally – <strong>_**things are all settled. I guess this isn't much; their future remains unwritten. But for me, this is what I wanted: Callen to show Kensi that really, he does trust her. And I feel that after that's done, their relationship can go back to how it was – only now it's stronger. And that's it: The End.**

**So, here we are. It's the epilogue; basically, **_**Leftover Love**_** is done, for good. I don't see a sequel for this one; I'm just gonna let it be. Thanks, guys, so much, for all the support and great reviews. Thanks for all the crazy PMs, and a shout-out to **_**LostForeverInHisEyes**_** who was willing to save me, on numerous occasions, from the crazy plot bunnies, recently christened Fluff, Bunny and Bit. (I know, not very original – try telling them that! Oh wait, they're on vacation. Never mind.)**

**Of course, we have all the usual readers who came fresh off **_**THTOYL **_**and read this, no questions asked, and reviewed faithfully: **_**TwilightPony21**_** who made time for this fic while writing her own amazing story, **_**Bloodline**_**, which, by the way, makes for a great read; the ever-present **_**evershort**_** whose reviews are always a joy; _Kaila. Nicole _****who probably came up with the concept of singing via reviews; **_**Sairs J**_** who always has something nice to say; **_**aneya**_** a.k.a **_**whitenightslove**_** who's a great Twitter buddy; **_**Tiana-P**_** who's been around since**_** THTOYL**_**; and **_**Madil93**_** who reviews almost religiously, in a good way, of course!**

**And a big thank-you to my new readers**_**, winter-leo, cjhar, Annabeth**_**, and **_**EmmaLee.97**_**. Glad you guys decided to join us for this ride!**

**Fingers crossed I'll be back in the LA fandom soon! (I just can't keep away!)**

**Once again, thank you guys so much, and seriously, I love you guys. In a friendly, non-lesbian way, of course! (Why is it that I have to clarify that all the time?) **

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**June 2011.**_

**P.S, don't forget to check out the alternate epilogue to this fic, which should be up soon on my site. Follow my tweets if you don't want to miss it!**


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